Dark Alchemy
by Liquidram
Summary: A new threat comes to Sunnydale in a very attractive package.
1. Prologue - Calcination

Dark Alchemy : Prologue : Calcination

  
**

prologue - calcination

**

Purplegrrl 

Talia was sulking again, but Aeralyus knew there was something that would cheer up his twin. From his position behind the couch, he leaned over to her, his hot breath tickling the sensitive flesh of her ear. 

_He's dead._

Instantly, Talia's pout became a toothy grin. She turned to her brother. _Sometimes you say the sweetest things._

Aeralyus gave her a quick kiss on the lips. _Anything for you, love._

_Shall we hunt, brother?_

_Of course._

The twins quickly shed their human facades, morphing into their natural forms. They became wolf-like yet somehow larger, darker, toothier, and more fearsome than true wolves. Their physical shapes were oddly shadowed, flickering around the edges as if they existed on more than one plane of reality. Opening the door with an appendage that more closely resembled a taloned and furred hand than a wolf's paw, the brother slipped into the night, his sister close behind. They sniffed at the slight breeze, searching for the scent of likely prey. 

Aeralyus took the lead as they loped down the street. Talia was only a half-step behind him, running at his shoulder. They could smell the faint odor of fear - a mixture of sweat and pheromones and nervous energy. The wolves slowed as they approached their quarry. 

Trixie - it was a dumb name, but Mikhail had insisted - nervously paced the street corner, her feet already hurting from the three-inch stiletto heels she wore. She tugged at the hem of her bright red miniskirt in a vain attempt to cover more of her bare legs. Fear and nerves swirled within her. Despite the fact that she had been hustling for several months now, Trixie still went out every night with knots in her stomach. This wasn't why she had left Kladno. She came to Prague to be an actress, to show all the folks back home who thought she was only good enough to be a nurse or a schoolteacher or a housewife. 

Few cars were on the street tonight. Each one that passed without slowing increased her fear. Mikhail had been annoyed that Trixie was not bringing in the kind of money that he thought she should. There was still a bruise on her upper right arm from the last time he had upbraided her about the number of tricks she turned. 

From an alley black with shadows, the twin wolves watched their chosen prey. Although she could not see them, the young hooker could sense them. The menace that radiated from the hellish creatures made fear quiver up her spine like a cold finger. Brother and sister grinned at each other, long black tongues lolling from their mouths. Between one heartbeat and the next, Aeralyus metamorphosed into his human façade. Talia watched as he stepped out of the alley. 

Trixie watched as a tall, blonde, twentysomething man made a beeline for her from across the street. Although she had been keeping watch in both directions, this guy seemed to appear out of nowhere. As he got closer, Trixie got a better look at him. 

_Oooh,_ she thought. _He looks like a movie star._ She'd seen her share of Hollywood movies. She and a couple of Mikhail's other girls went to see them any chance they got. The most recent one had some blond, buff actor. Trixie wasn't sure of his name, but she had confessed to a bit of a crush on him. 

As Aeralyus approached her, Trixie cocked her hip and struck what she hoped was her most seductive pose. Carefully enunciating one of her few English phrases, she asked him, "Wanna party, mister?" 

Aeralyus smiled. Despite her almost palpable fear, the young hooker was put off by his blonde good looks. "That's what I had in mind." 

Trixie blinked, confused. The young man noticed, and almost immediately repeated the phrase in flawless Czech. She smiled, still a bit put off, and responded in Czech, "Don't you want to know how much?" Her fear was tempered by a bit of desire. 

"I figure I can afford it." 

Looking at his clothes, Trixie figured he could, too. If she pleased him, maybe he'd even give her a tip on top of her price. Mikhail would be pleased with that. "Where do you want to go?" 

Aeralyus took her elbow and nodded towards the alley where Talia remained hidden. "Over there." 

Trixie balked a little. She didn't want to do it in an alley. Especially not _that_ alley, although she couldn't put into words what made her want to stay away. Besides, Mikhail always told her to make her johns take her to a motel. But this guy didn't look like he would hurt her, so she swallowed her trepidation and allowed herself to be led into the alley. 

"My name's Trixie. What's yours?" There was still a quaver in her voice as she spoke. 

"Aeralyus." 

Unable to help herself, Trixie giggled nervously. "Is that your first name or your last?" 

"Just Aeralyus. Like... Cher." 

"Okay." Trixie didn't even try to pronounce such an unusual name. In her mind she decided to call him Otto, like her favorite German movie star. Entering the alley, Trixie's legs began to shake. She was glad of the man's hand on her arm. At least this place wasn't as trashy and smelly as some. 

Aeralyus drew his prey far enough down the alley so they would not be seen from the street. Leaning against the brick wall, he pulled Trixie to him in what would appear to be a passionate embrace. Before the girl could move, Aeralyus brushed aside her long brown hair and pressed his mouth to her soft flesh. Running his sandpaper-like tongue up the side of her neck, he could almost taste the blood underneath. 

Trixie shivered. What she thought was going to be a kiss turned out to be a tasting. _It's okay,_ she decided, _but a little creepy._

Then she felt another sandpaper-rough tongue grate up the back of her bare leg. _Now that's creepy._ She tried to pull away. 

"What was that?!" 

Aeralyus smiled. "That's just Talia." 

Trixie looked down to see a dark-haired, exotic-looking young woman crouched against the alley wall. The woman grinned wolfishly up at her. 

"Hi," Trixie said timidly. 

Talia's only response was to flick the tip of her tongue against the girl's knee. 

Gathering up her courage, Trixie told the man, "I... I have to have more money for a threesome." 

"Of course," said Aeralyus. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out some bills. "Will this do?" 

Trixie's eyes widened at the money he held: five or six fifty-dollar bills... _American bills,_ she thought greedily. "Yes." _Mikhail will be so pleased!_

Aeralyus tucked the money into her cleavage. Tasting her sweet flesh, he ran his tongue over the swell of the girl's breast, across her collarbone, and up her neck. Talia licked over the girl's knee and up her leg. 

_This is strange,_ Trixie thought as the man licked up the length of her arm. But considering the amount of money he had given her, she was willing to go with it. 

Gradually the licking stopped being pleasurable, becoming irritating and downright painful. Trixie felt something warm run into her shoe, across her hand, between her breasts. Opening her eyes, she looked down at herself as the man and woman continued to lick her arms and legs. Blood streaked the front of her new blue top and droplets of blood hung from the ends of her fingers. 

Trixie opened her mouth to scream but the man's hand covered it before she could make a sound. Now truly frightened, she struggled to free herself from the blonde man's embrace. 

_Hold her, brother._

_Yes, sister._

Aeralyus tightened his embrace on the girl to contain her struggles. With one arm around her waist and his other hand over her mouth, he could only lick at her shoulder and neck. He knew Talia was licking at the girl's thigh, searching for the femoral artery. 

Their rough tongues continued to abrade the young prostitute's skin. Her blood welled and then flowed as they licked. After a while she ceased to struggle against them. The male knew his sister was only a lick or two away from breaking open the artery in the girl's leg, just as she knew it would only take him that long to break open the girl's carotid artery. 

Simultaneously blood gushed from their prey's neck and thigh. The flow diminished as she bled out. They lapped at the warm, coppery liquid before it could cool with her dying. The girl hung limp in the male's arms, her blood staining his shirt. The female took one last tentative lick before moving away. The male allowed the body to fall to the ground in a bloody heap. 

_Our kitten is dead._

_I'll find you another._

Talia's smile lasted through their metamorphosis back into their hellish wolf shapes. The twins touched noses before moving further into the darkness and the night. 

  


_ [~ continue to next chapter ~][1] _

  


   [1]: 01-12.htm



	2. Beginning of Part I - Dissolution - Chap...

dark alchemy : part I - Dissolution : Chapter One

  
**

chapter one

**

  
Masquerade 

  
Night had crept in, bringing a soft chill to the mid-November air. To the ordinary eye, there was nothing odd about night here. People drove home from their jobs, or out to what passed for an evening's entertainment in this one-coffee-shop town. Most of them remained blissfully ignorant of the creatures that lurked among them in the shadows using the night to prey upon the human pestilence. This, too, was simply part of life and death in Sunnydale. 

  
Solitude1056 

  


Marcus had seen a faded red motel vacancy sign not far from where he dropped off the rental car. Unwilling to do too much more searching, he decided the low-rate motel would have to do. He'd traveled close to seven thousand miles in the previous week, and the wear on his body was beginning to erode his determination. He checked in and found his room easily, wrinkling his nose at the smell of other people still strong in the room. 

_What I wouldn't give for room delivery, laundry service, and a good soak. Well, I couldn't expect everything to be up to the usual standards,_ he grumbled good-naturedly to himself. 

After washing his face, he carefully stowed his single piece of luggage with a muttered protection spell before locking the door behind him. Neither was enough to really protect it, he knew, from any but a casual observer. He sighed, knowing that would have to do as he left the motel. 

He'd reached what passed for downtown in this small town when he turned a corner and felt the ominous presence not far away. _It's catching up already._ He swore viciously and picked up his pace. _There's got to be somewhere around here,_ he thought, _where there's people, especially on a Friday night._

  
Brian 

  
Just when he was certain it was just a matter of time before he turned the wrong corner and came face-to-face with the hunters, he became aware of a throbbing beat off to his left. It was some kind of café or nightspot. A name flashed past as he ducked inside the Bronze. Now that people surrounded him, the sensations receded. They were still searching for him, but the pounding music and people would confuse them. 

He ordered a beer, enjoying the cool relief on his throat. There were several young people dancing, one of them a pretty blonde. Watching her, he reflected that she seemed have some kind of aura surrounding her. She was laughing and joking with friends, but when he tried to probe her mind a little deeper, all he saw was blackness. It scared him almost as much as his pursuers. 

  
Solitude1056 

  
After a few minutes, he began to relax. His tolerance for the watered tastelessness of American beers was growing, he noted - he was actually beginning to enjoy them chilled. Stretching imperceptibly as he settled onto the barstool, he fingered the scribbled notes in his pocket. Marcus shrugged off the doubts and returned his attention to the attractive young women around him, marveling in the warm California air that encourages the exposure of so much flesh. 

He finished the beer, absent-mindedly patting his pocket one last time to make sure the paper was still there. He could risk what was outside, and continue his search. Or, he reflected, there was no reason he couldn't pause long enough to enjoy a welcoming sight like the petite blonde heading in his direction. 

  
Talking Drum 

  
She moved past him to an open space along the bar and leaned onto the rounded bar edge for a moment when she caught the bartender's attention. Marcus, looking at her in profile, thought he detected a certain sadness in her demeanor, but then he thought maybe he was just projecting his own mindset onto the pretty stranger. He could hear only pieces of the interaction between the two, but it appeared that the bartender was making a not too sly attempt to chat her up. 

"How about showing me some I.D.?" the bartender asked. The girl smiled slightly and displayed the purple "OKAY" stamp on the back of her right hand. 

"Sorry, not good enough. I'll need more," responded the bartender. She half-frowned and rolled her eyes, then pulled out the card and handed it to him. "You're cool. You just looked like you needed some identifying," the guy stated authoritatively as if he had just come up with some especially convincing line. 

The girl slowly nodded. "Yeah, right." She ordered a beer and a mineral water and turned around to survey the room while she waited for the bartender to return with her refreshments. 

  
Liquidram 

  
For a moment, he thought she was going to speak to him. She glanced his way, checking him out very carefully and paused for a mere second. Their eyes met, she smiled, but then took her drink and continued over to a table where others were obviously waiting for her. He watched her closely, then shook his head at himself. _No, it's not possible,_ he thought, and pushed the thought away. 

  
Little One 

  
He knew he was starting to lose control. For months, Marcus had tried to ignore his feelings, preferring the cold analytical logic of collecting and ciphering through obscure facts, collecting gear, arranging and controlling as much as he could, knowing that if he allowed himself pleasure or pain, then all emotion would overcome. He kept busy knowing that if he stopped to unwind, then he would unravel. At first, he was successful but as his efforts were starting to reward him with the information he craved, he was losing control. The reins weren't being loosened but rather were being stretched. Unwanted emotions were welling with impossible force. For the last few weeks, he had had a constant ache in his jaws from clenching his teeth and his stomach ached. 

  
Liquidram 

  
Shaking his head at himself, Marcus downed the last of his beer. He threw a few bills on the counter and got up to leave. 

  
Little One 

  
Another girl approached, looking slyly in his direction. Marcus racked his brain for the most intelligent opening line he could think of, in case she actually said anything to him. Somehow, 'ever wonder what it'd be like to know the day you'll die?' sounded a little too desperate, if not outright bizarre. 

  
Solitude1056 

  
Deciding to avoid the issue altogether, he turned on his heel and immediately ran into a redhead who'd been standing directly behind him. Their hands collided and her drink spilled all over him. 

"Oh, no! I'm so sorry about your shirt," she exclaimed, as he froze in place, his mind just beginning to register the trickles of ice water down the front of his shirt. Small ice cubes seemed to be settling between his jeans and his hips. He wondered, stupidly, if scooping them out with his fingers would be considered gauche. He realized she was still talking. 

"Here's some napkins, do you need anymore? Hey," she interrupted herself to peer closer at him in the club's darkness. "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine, just surprised," he said, uncomfortable with her scrutiny and wondering if his accent sounded too forced. After a pause, he realized she was staring intently at the slender chain around his neck. He forced himself to breathe normally and pretended to ignore her expression as he dabbed at his shirt, surreptitiously pulling it out until the medallion slipped beneath his shirt again. She frowned at him, as if she didn't believe him. 

"Really, I'm fine. My shirt and I will survive," he offered lamely, trying to distract her attention with a joke. _Not my strongest skill,_ he thought with a rueful inward smile. 

"You're at the college?" she asked, making conversation as she handed him another handful of napkins to pat his shirt dry. 

"No," he said. Then, since he wasn't sure what else to say, he added, "I'm, uh, just visiting." 

She smiled pleasantly, her curiosity apparently forgotten. Emboldened by her attention, he asked her about a payphone, and she nodded towards a back corner. Taking the wet napkins from him, she walked off with a stranger's smile, throwing the napkins away as she went. 

  
Liquidram 

  


Willow, with an arm lightly hung over Tara's shoulder, couldn't resist a glance back at the stranger, her eyes wide. "That guy I just iced down - did you see him?" 

Tara frowned slightly and squinted past Willow to see through the smoky bar, then shook her head. "Who? No. Why?" 

"Ooh," Willow wriggled a bit, rolling her eyes. "He was like Dracula, he of the dark penetrating eyes. Quite tall, with this gorgeous black hair that..." she trailed off, seeing Tara's arched eyebrow. "...That looks like it badly needs to be shampooed," she finished, then wrinkled her nose. "Very yuck. Very, uh, yuck." 

Just then, Willow saw the stranger moving through the crowd. Nudging Tara, she jerked her head in the stranger's direction in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner. "There," she exclaimed. "There, see him?" 

  
Solitude1056 

  


Marcus began navigating the crowd, with one eye still on the redhead's retreating figure as she headed towards a group of people standing around a table. One of the women in the group made a point of embracing the redhead casually, and turning to look directly at him. 

Involuntarily, he shivered... and it wasn't because of the ice. He turned and headed for the door. There were other payphones, in safer places. 

  
Liquidram 

  


Tara nodded, amused, then studied the man, her expression suddenly intent. 

Willow caught Tara's look and glanced over at the man again as he deftly stepped out of the way of several dancers. "What? What is it? Vampire?" She didn't say anything else, but her expression was clear that she was half-hoping it was the famous vampire again. 

Tara shook her head. "No, not vampire." She smiled at Willow, then glanced back at the stranger again and her smile faded. "I'd like to leave now." 

Willow's jaw dropped slightly at Tara's unexpected announcement. She barely had a chance to explain to Xander before Tara was thrusting their coats at her. 

"I don't feel well," Tara quietly stated. She didn't say another word until they'd left the club, with Willow on her heels, looking worried. 

  
Purrfection 

  


Marcus entered the night, welcoming the cold like a mother's embrace and impulsively ducked into a doorway to survey the area. It wasn't long before the club's doors opened and the two women stepped into the street. 

  
Solitude1056 

  
Marcus wondered why he'd not gotten the redhead's name, but then, he hadn't introduced himself, either. He couldn't be sure that anyone would really recognize his own name, anyway. But the same sense that triggered a warning about the blonde girl told him to watch his back. Casting about for a sense of his pursuers, he was gratified to feel no sense of them around. 

Marcus watched the women walk past. Their hands were linked and their heads were close together in whispered conversation. They appeared to be oblivious to him, and he waited a few minutes more before ducking out to follow them. That quiet voice was telling him to keep an eye on them. 

  
Bess 

  
He considered returning to the club, but shook his head. _It's not like you were there for a good time. It's not like you've done anything for a good time lately._ He watched the blonde's fingers entwined with her lover's and felt a twinge. _You can't miss what you don't have,_ he told himself, but that was a lie, and he knew it. 

He stepped over a puddle. The moon caught his reflection in the muddy water, and for a moment, he flashed by, iced in white. _That's what I am. A sort of ghost._ He remembered the blonde's face as she watched him. _A ghost that doesn't belong. The sooner I get out of this town, the better. People notice too much. _

Marcus' thoughts were interrupted by a choked cry echoing out of the alley to his right. He ducked behind a dumpster in time to see two shadows stumble into the street. The second was faster, and closed the gap between them in an instant. Marcus put a hand to his hip as his stomach flip-flopped. 

_ I hate vampires,_ he sighed to himself, and picked up a busted chair leg from next to the dumpster. 

  
Lady Starlight 

  
Just as Marcus straightened up, a female vampire shoved into him. He countered the force of her shove and drove the wooden object into her chest. Silently, the vampire evaporated in a soft whoosh of dust. Marcus pushed himself away from the dumpster as he heard a Cockney voice angrily lecturing someone. 

"If you would - oh bloody hell. Just _stand still_ and this will go much smoother." 

Marcus watched in open-mouthed awe as the vampire plunged a stake into the heart of the stocky second vampire. _I know him,_ Marcus thought, perplexed, recognizing the blond vampire from his mother's books. _The rumors are true._ He choked back a cough from the dusty remains drifting in the air. The leather-clad vampire spun in a circle, muttering something, and walked right into Marcus. 

"Bloody hell, mate! Watch where you're going!" 

"_You_ watch," Marcus retorted. Still stunned, he got right to the point. "You're William the Bloody, aren't you." 

The vampire lit a cigarette, and nonchalantly tossed the burnt match aside. "Who wants to know?" 

  
Solitude1056 

  
Marcus slowly lowered his fighting arm, narrowed his eyes at the vampire, throwing the stake away. It clattered hollowly in the empty alley, and Marcus noticed the vampire's shoulders tense abruptly at the unexpected gesture. 

"No one you'd know." Marcus shifted his weight onto his back leg, prepared to swing if necessary, aware that if the rumors were true, he wouldn't need to waste the effort. The vampire shrugged his jacket slightly, nonplussed at the response. Before he could speak again, Marcus turned on his heel and walked out of the alley without looking back. The vampire's jaw dropped in irritated shock at the gall, his hand frozen halfway to his cigarette in preparation for a fast retort that didn't seem to be coming. 

Marcus purposefully walked as casually as possible, and considered whistling but decided that might be overdoing it. _Great,_ he thought to himself, _the town's got a bloody resident living legend, too._ He smiled to himself, grimly. _Or unliving legend, I suppose._ He'd gone a short distance before he realized his legs were shaking slightly. A gutsy move, just when he least needed attention - of any kind. 

Unnerved by the chance meeting, he stopped at the corner to get his bearings. The gods were paying attention tonight: the two girls hadn't gotten too far ahead of him. One of them had paused to dig in her purse for something, while the other seemed to be saying something. Their voices didn't travel far in the late night street, and he leaned against the wall, doing his best to blend into the shadows. It was an easy skill for him, but he wished he could manage it in closer quarters. His curiosity was growing as to why he felt compelled to know more about these young women. 

As if sensing something, the blonde who'd been talking abruptly fell silent as she turned to stare directly at his location. Marcus knew she couldn't see him, but he still felt a distinct chill up his spine at the sensation that she was seeing directly _through_ him. He swore softly under his breath as she grabbed the redhead by the shoulders, pushing her along while glancing several times over her shoulder at him. The redhead's surprised squawks were audible from down the block. 

He waited until he couldn't hear them anymore before venturing away from the building to begin following the traces they'd left in the air. 

  
Purplegrrl 

  


Spike finished his cigarette and tossed the glowing butt to the ground. _Bloody wanker,_ he thought peevishly. 

Having no pressing engagements and nothing better to do, Spike decided to follow the dark stranger. Stepping out of the alley, he saw the stranger heading through the dark streets after Willow and Tara. Not that he'd mind a little blood and mayhem, but Spike had a soft spot for Willow, and Tara seemed an all-right girl, as well. _Hadn't even held it against me when I'd punched her in the face to prove she wasn't a demon,_ he mused. 

Keeping well back so as not to draw attention, Spike kept all three in sight until the two young women entered their apartment. Spike now only had to keep an eye on the stranger. An easier task, especially if the bloke was going to stand there sniffing the air like a bleedin' spaniel. 

  
Little One 

  


Marcus stopped at the apartment building. Satisfied that he could pick up the trail again if he chose, he decided he'd been over the area enough that he could sleep in relative safety one more night. He doubted his pursuers would guess that he'd stay in the area. His previous paths through the small town would have to be enough to muddle his scent until morning. 

He began the long trudge back to the motel. He had a lot to think about before he made any more moves. 

  
Solitude1056 

  


Tara let the curtain drop back into place, hoping the movement wouldn't be visible from the street. Whatever it was, was leaving, and she finally breathed a sigh of relief. The bathroom door opened. Willow sauntered in, her damp hair plastered to her forehead, her favorite yellow towel wrapped loosely around her chest. Willow noticed Tara still by the window, and crossed the room to wrap her arms around Tara from behind, resting her chin on Tara's shoulder. 

"What's out there? Are you still watching for your shadow?" she asked. Tara stiffened slightly, and Willow turned Tara around to face her. 

"Tara, come on, tell me what it is." 

"I thought it was just me, but on the way home there was something..." Tara leaned against Willow until the wet towel began making her shirt damp. "But it's, it's gone now. Oh, now I'm wet, too," Tara said. Willow laughed quietly and stepped back into the bedroom to get ready for bed, and Tara followed, sinking on the bed with a sigh. "I-I think it was that guy you bumped into at the Bronze." 

"Really? You said you didn't see anything. A big lotta nothing to drag me back here at top speed." Willow shook her head and sprayed water across the mirror. "If you wanted attention, you could've just said so," she added, teasing. Tara's expression didn't change. 

"It was like there was supposed to be something there, and there wasn't anything at all." Tara glanced nervously over her shoulder at the window and frowned. She was positive it was gone. Wasn't it? "I'm pretty sure it was the same guy." 

"He seemed like a nice guy," Willow mused, "if a little weird. And he was wearing this charm, on a cord, around his neck. It looked like..." Willow shrugged off her first impression, unable to articulate what the man's pendant had reminded her of. She made a face at Tara in the mirror and picked up her hairbrush. 

"But not a vampire." 

Willow made a face, negating that option. "He didn't - feel, I guess - like one."

"N-no, there's something else." Tara looked thoughtful. "He felt, uh, familiar. Li-like, like, I'd met him before. Somewhere." 

Willow glanced at Tara's face reflected in the mirror. "You know him? He said he wasn't a student here." 

"No, not him personally. I, I - I feel like I know him, like he's..." Tara's voice trailed off, and her eyes grew large. "Willow, you remember when I told you about how each person has a signature, a vibe, something that's them, how you know it's them?" 

Willow nodded. 

"It's just that -" Tara finally said, "that he reminds me of ... Buffy." Tara's voice trailed off. 

"What do you mean?"

"It's like hearing someone's voice and knowing it's a guy, or a girl, no matter how high or low they talk," Tara mused. "And it's the same with..."

Willow stared at Tara, and Tara stared back. After a pause, Willow put down the hairbrush and sat next to Tara while she thought about it. Tara continued to glance over her shoulder at the window, still worried. 

"First thing in the morning," Willow finally said, "we go talk to Giles. Xander's getting him at the airport in the morning. As long as he's back visiting, he can help." 

"Shouldn't we tell Buffy?" 

"Sleep first." 

Tara nodded, relieved, and willing to set aside worrying until the rest of the gang could help. Then she raised an eyebrow at Willow. "Just sleep?" 

Willow smiled wickedly, and leaned over Tara to turn out the light. 

  
Purplegrrl 

  


Spike watched as the guy turned to go, obviously having finished sniffing the air and staring up at the lit windows of the apartments. A combination of curiosity and boredom inspired the vampire to continue following, and his fingers itched for another cigarette. If the stranger's sense of smell were as acute as his own, the smoke would be a dead giveaway he was being followed. 

Scowling, Spike stuffed his hands into the pockets of his black leather duster and kept walking. _At least I didn't have to mix it up with him for messing with Will and her girlfriend,_ Spike thought. _ The guy's sniffing... that's reason enough to be suspicious._ Intrigued, Spike forgot his boredom and nicotine cravings. _Something new and probably bad has come to Sunnyhell._

  
Lady Starlight 

  


Buffy closed the door and stretched before she put her coat away. 

"Buffy?" Dawn called from where she sat on the sofa. "You home already?" 

"Yeah. Whatcha up to?" Buffy glanced at the television's flickering black and white shapes as she walked into the living room and sat down beside Dawn. "What's that?" 

"It's an old movie directed by Cocteau. My art teacher said he used light and shadow really well. He managed this chiaroscuro effect that's unbelievable. Here, I'll rewind it so you can see it." 

"Unh-hunh. Not really a fan of movies you have to read." She yawned and dropped her head against the couch for a minute. 

"How was the Bronze?" 

"Bronze-y mostly. Tara and Willow bailed pretty quick, musta been some Wicca thing..." 

"Like 'playing checkers'?" 

"You are never going to forget that, are you? Anyway, I didn't want to watch Xander and Anya sucking face, so I did a quick patrol, and now I'm here. How was your night?" 

"Fine. Finished my homework, did the dishes, and now it's movie time." 

Buffy squinted at the screen. "And I can see that Cousteau is terribly fascinating, but I think I'm going to bed now." She got off the couch, dropped an affectionate kiss on the top of Dawn's head and started for the stairs. "Don't stay up too late, 'kay?" 

"I won't. It's almost over anyway. G'night." 

"G'night." 

  
Rowan 

  


Leaning against a building, Spike waited as Sniffing Boy studied the street signs carefully before choosing which way to go. Bored, Spike fought back a growl at the fact that this was the fourth time the stranger had led him back around to this same intersection.

_A new Big Bad._ Spike rolled the thought around in his head for a minute. _No. Doesn't fit. Whatever it is, it doesn't have the best sense of direction._

The young man was on the move again, his pace steady as he strode along the sidewalk as though this wasn't the second time he'd walked down this street. Behind him, Spike took his time, muttering quietly to himself. 

_What're the chances he'll end up at the same corner again,_ Spike thought, and his wool-gathering almost caused him to lose the man as the stranger ducked down a side street. As luck would have it, the stranger had stopped in front of one of the buildings. Spike stepped back into shadows and watched as the man stared down the dark steps that led to the basement apartment. 

_Doc's apartment isn't usually on the list of tourist attractions._ Spike's eyes narrowed dangerously as he recognized the location. _Now I know he's up to no good._

  
Purplegrrl 

  
The stranger was moving again. Spike made a mental note to tell Buffy first thing in the morning. In the meantime, he decided he'd keep an eye on the stranger. He continued to follow the stranger to a rundown motel in the less desirable part of Sunnydale. 

From the darkness of a deep doorway across the street from the motel, the vampire swore under his breath. This stranger was staying in the most derelict flophouse on this Hellmouth or any other, but it was still a step up from the dusty crypt Spike called home. Although on second thought, Spike consoled himself with the knowledge that at least his crypt had a telly, and all the better to watch his favorite show, but lately that had been interrupted by the American football season. _All that sunshine and grass. Dog racing - now there's a sport. Can even be done at night._

From his vantage point, Spike watched the stranger leave the motel office and angle across the parking lot to his room. A moment at the door with the key and the stranger was inside. Spike considered confronting him. Gaining entrance to a motel room was not a problem for the vampire, but fighting humans really wasn't Spike's cup of blood. 

Spike drew the pack of cigarettes from his pocket and put one to his lips. Careful to shield the lighter's sudden flame from possible prying eyes, he lit the cigarette and took a deep drag. He'd keep an eye on the stranger's room. If he left again before sunrise, he'd have a certain blond vampire for a tail. It always paid to know who the players were. 

Smoking cigarette after cigarette until the pack was empty, Spike continued to watch the dilapidated motel. He only left when the birds began to chirp, heralding the coming sunrise. 

  
Talking Drum 

  


The travelers slept as the northbound bus trundled down the highway. 

Nervous didn't adequately describe how he felt, but being sixteen, a runaway and self-educated for the past three years, he couldn't think of any other word at this time to capture his exact frame of mind. He'd never expected to make this journey, but now that he'd started, his mind was made up. He just had to pay his respects, and then go back to the life he'd finally managed to create for himself. 

He dug in his backpack and pulled out the roundtrip bus ticket. Stuck in the envelope with it was the note from Anne, with a single word. Sunnydale. That was all. She'd refused to tell him the girl's real name, but he wasn't surprised. After all, Simon wasn't his real name. The Street renamed him, just like everyone else. In fact, he couldn't remember his real family or if they even ever really existed, nor did he have any recollection of home. _Anyway, when you've been reborn you're not the same person anymore. All that other stuff is a world away._

In another hour or so, he figured, he'd be in Sunnydale. He could catch a bit more sleep before the bus arrived. As his eyes drooped, he heard a young girl's voice saying something he couldn't quite make out, and he crossed from groggy consciousness to the void of death-like sleep. 

  
Solitude1056 

  


When the bus pulled up to the station at mid-morning, Simon's sneakers were among the first to touch ground. His stomach queasy from the long ride, he hefted his backpack to his shoulders. 

_First stop, _he decided,_ is the library._

  


_[~ continue to next chapter ~][1]_

   [1]: 02-12.htm



	3. Chapter 2

dark alchemy : part I - Dissolution : Chapter Two

  
**

chapter two

**

Little One 

The harsh screech of bus brakes jolted Marcus awake. He opened his eyes and for a moment was lost, the scratched wood veneer on the bedside table was unfamiliar. He mentally shook himself out of the dream that still called, misty shapes of terror reaching out to him with fingers of ice chilling his mind, refusing to let go. He slowly lifted his head to look at the clock, then collapsed back on the pillow. He'd slept later than he intended, but he could have easily slept for another hour. As he rolled on his side, he noticed graffiti from a former visitor, scratched on the wall behind the nightstand. 

He sighed. His long form lay spread-eagled face down on the white bed, his white cotton boxers blending in with the sheet tangled around his form, looking like dismembered parts lying by each other as if by habit. Like Humpty Dumpty, he had had a bad fall and was waiting to be put back together. 

Marcus roused himself wearily and staggered into the bathroom. At last, a shower. He had looked forward to one for quite a while. Marcus just hoped that this rundown motel would have enough water in its tanks to scrub the grime from his body. He didn't even care if it was hot - in fact, a cold shower might wake him up. His hand on the doorknob, Marcus was about to close the door when he thought better of it. _Besides,_ he thought ruefully as he reached over to turn on the faucet, _if someone goes to that much trouble to pick the deadbolt on the room door, they deserve to see something for their efforts._

He slipped off his boxers and stepped into the small brown and orange tiled cubicle, sighing in pleasure as the frigid water cascaded down. For a few moments he just stood, eagerly soaking in the water like a tropical plant after a drought. A large daddy longlegs sat in the upper right corner of the shower. Marcus idly watched; he appeared to be watching Marcus as well, though he seemed just as inclined to react as Marcus did. 

_What do you call female daddy longlegs,_ he wondered as he gazed at the fragile spindly limbs and gray bulbous body hanging in the center like a ripe fruit. Mama longlegs sounds like a hooker name and sister longlegs seemed vaguely religious. Marcus smiled at his silly reflections and allowed his thoughts to drift as he stood under the pouring water, not noticing as the thick stream of water got thinner and began to abate. 

"Shit." Marcus cursed the exhaustion that had made him pick the first place he saw. 

The flow stopped completely. He began twisting the faucets frantically not caring what temperature of water came out, just as long as he wasn't left with half his body covered in dried soap crud and the other half still grimy. The pipes hiccupped and a quick thin spurt of water jetted out, rather like the shower was urinating. It didn't last long, but it was enough to rinse the drying soap from his body. He repeated this several more times to wash and rinse his hair; this long awaited leisurely shower turned into a thorough scouring followed by a mad race to put as much of his body under the brief spurt as quickly as possible. 

  
Humanitas 

  
Marcus came out of the shower, got dressed, and shoved his few belongings into his rucksack. Better to stay a different place every night, keep the wolves off the scent. He paused at the door, noticing the deep scar in the doorjamb. He was briefly assailed with an impression of that dark-haired girl. Her angry face flitted across his exhausted vision, cruel rather than the forlorn expression she always displayed in his dreams. He shook his head to clear the vision.

  
Brian 

  


Simon figured the best library would be at the local college. It was only fifteen minutes from the bus station, and soon he was wandering the green lawn of a medium-sized university. _Which one is the library,_ Simon wondered as he abruptly turned and banged into someone. It was a young girl with long brown hair. Both figures echoed apologies at the same moment, then laughed. 

"I guess I better put blinkers on my shoulder when making such abrupt U-turns," Simon told her. 

The girl laughed again. "No problem. Probably my fault anyway. I wasn't watching where I was going." 

"Do you know where the library is?" he gestured toward the maze of campus buildings. 

"Uh-huh, it's right over there in that green building right after the quad. Aren't you a little young to be going to college?" she replied flirtatiously. 

"Aren't you?" Simon winked at her.

Simon liked her smile. It was so open and friendly. She went on her way, and he dropped all pretence and stared over his shoulder at her. There was something there, but he couldn't figure out what it was. He was certain it wasn't just because she was pretty. It was something else. She seemed... familiar, somehow. 

  
Liquidram 

  


The old man gasped. He had tried to turn over in the bed, but the joints and muscles in his back and neck were still stiff from his injuries. He slowly started the excruciating dance he was forced to perform every single day before he could get out of bed. First, an agonizing roll to the right and then to the left, continuing until the pain began to abate. Soon after, he could begin to sit up. Once up, he moved to the window in the tiny room and drew back the curtain to a small slit. The streets were empty. 

Closing the curtain, he once again thought of his dream, recycling the year's events one more time. The greatest task he had ever undertaken, and he had almost failed. He had been certain of his success until She arrived from nowhere. One second everything he had worked toward, everything he had sacrificed for, was in his grasp. The next, he was high-diving into thin air. He had bested the strongest vampire he'd ever known. Moments later, a tiny blonde girl had ended everything with a single leap. He'd doubted his plans for a while afterwards, but it had all turned out better than he'd expected... except that he did sometimes wish that damned vampire hadn't made it. 

The old man sat at the wobbly table and stirred sugar into his coffee. His injuries were severe enough to make him wish a few times he'd died, instead, but the strength skillfully hidden in this decrepit body prevented that release. He prayed to his gods daily but they were gone... or at least not answering. That didn't bother him; he'd outlived more than a few in his time. 

He was old, he reminded himself. There was work to be done, of the kind he could handle without too much trouble. A little more coffee, have some breakfast, and he'd be ready for visitors. 

  
Humanitas 

  


Ignoring the wind tugging at his jacket, Marcus turned his attention to his task. Finding his father's classmate couldn't be too hard, now that he'd come this far. He headed into town, stopping briefly at a corner coffee shop. It was there that he picked up the swirl of magick from the girls of the previous evening. _Witches, I'm positive,_ he thought smugly. The trail from last night was fading already, but there was a much fresher one leading down the street, presumably from this morning. He followed a few blocks to a little shop on a side street. 

From across the street, he could see the large sign clearly: the Magic Box.

  
Solitude1056 

  
Marcus hesitated, taking off his rucksack and leaning it against his leg while he tried to figure out just what he intended by tracking these two women. A dark shape moved in the corner of his eye, and he turned to watch, curious - only to see a brown person-shaped blanket dash out of an alleyway to his left and cross the street. 

Marcus gaped. _It's not that cold,_ he thought. _Who in the bloody hell goes around covered by a blanket? This town is bonkers._ Then he saw the faint tendrils of smoke drifting in the shape's wake, and heard a nearly inaudible shout as the figure neared the shop. Too indistinct to hear, but clearly that same Cockney accent from the night before. 

_And I thought the day couldn't get worse,_ he mused, frowning. _ Since when do vampires - let alone legends - do their shopping at the same two-bit magick store as a couple of young witches? In broad daylight?_ Marcus snorted in disgust. _Even a neutered legend, at that._

Marcus shifted his rucksack again and dug his hand down in his jeans pocket to finger the slip of paper. "This is ridiculous," he muttered aloud. He hadn't found his father's classmate, and he wasn't about to if he kept wasting time. Worse, his stomach was starting that familiar empty rumbling. What he needed, he decided, was a large grocery store, large enough that an unfamiliar face wouldn't be worth noticing. Eating on the go wasn't his preference, but in the circumstances, it'd suit. His limited time needed to be spent on priorities, and simple hunger didn't count as one.

  
Little One 

  


"So now that we are all here, what's the chest-heaving commotion?" Xander asked, idly playing with Anya's hair. 

"Xander, please," Anya poked him to pay attention. "Pay attention. We have to choose an invitation style." 

"Right now?" Xander sighed and stared at the five examples laid out on the countertop. Willow exchanged an amused glance with Tara, who ducked her head to cover her responding smile. "I don't know, honey," Xander finally replied. "I kinda like that one. Got the swirly action on the border."

Beside them, Giles finished reviewing the store's ledgers and looked at Tara, waiting for her to speak.

"Last night," Tara stammered, "I...I...I don't know quite why or how, but last night we met someone. Someone who isn't quite..." 

"He reminded me of Dracula," Willow blurted. "Dark penetrating eyes," she said dreamily, by way of explanation. Tara raised her eyebrows at Willow. 

"A vampire?" Buffy said, puzzled. 

Both girls shook their heads, but before they could explain, a tinkling sound filled the room as the shop door was yanked open. Anya turned, smiling when she saw the huddled smoking figure stumble through the door. 

"Spike," Anya called out, motioning to the invitations arranged on the scarred mahogany counter. "Which do you like?" Beside her, Xander made a face.

Spike shook off the blanket, glancing quickly at the different samples. "That one," he said, pointing. "I like the swirls in the border. Classic." 

Irritated, Xander glared at him. "Classic 'what' is the question," he muttered. "Like you'd know a fine invitation when you saw one."

"She asked, didn't she?" Spike glared at Xander. "I'll have you know, I'm not just here to talk Miss Post about font styles, either. I'm here with some important information." 

"There's an onion shortage." Xander crossed his arms while Giles, behind him, looked bored. Buffy glanced at Giles and shrugged.

"I don't think so, Bowling Boy," Spike replied. "Much more important. Important enough that I didn't even hesitate to dash into the painful, and might I add, quite lethal, sunlight? Nor did I even think once about myself in my mission to bring this pertinent information to you in a timely fashion." Spike struck a dramatic pose as the punctuation to his minor tirade. Anya smiled appreciatively, then glanced at Xander's face and ducked her head back to the invitations, rolling her eyes.

"Uh, Spike?" Buffy pointedly glanced at the grease stained brown paper bag in his other hand. 

"Well, I... Look, a vamp's got to eat!" Spike replied indignantly. He stalked off to sulk on a tall stool in the dark recesses of the shop, just removed from where the Scoobies were huddled. 

"Let's get back to our discussion, shall we?" Giles pushed his glasses up with his ink-stained forefinger as he turned back to look at Tara. 

"So what's with the panic?" Buffy asked. "Another garden-variety vampire, movie-star wannabe -" 

"No, I..." 

"I know who you're talking about, and it's not a vampire," Spike muttered, crunching on a piece of battered onion. The six friends turned expectantly towards Spike. "Well, it's not!" he said irritably. They continued to stare at him. 

"I thought you would be less interested in the what-he-is," Spike said defensively, "and more interested in what he was doing following the girls home last night." 

Tara gasped and Willow instinctively moved to stand protectively beside her. Spike noticed, and nodded appreciatively to himself. 

"What do you mean? You saw him?" Willow accused. 

"Yeah, interrupted my hunting last night. He seemed like he was wanting to join in the fun but alas, my prowess had already vanquished the foe." He glanced up to see unimpressed faces. "Fine. Funny thing is...he knew who I was. Called me William the Bloody. Been a while since I heard that," he said, pensively, then, seeing their expressions, continued defensively. "I scared him, scared him good. He tried to saunter off, but I could see his knees knocking. Followed him to the girls' place where he stood for a moment, sniffing the air." 

"Sniffing the air?" Xander turned to his friends. "So we're looking for a peeping dark master wannabe?" Buffy gave Xander a strange look, then turned back to Willow. 

"His name is..." Willow piped up helpfully, then shut her mouth again and shrugged. "I didn't get his name. Oops." 

Spike shook his head, annoyed. "I didn't finish," he grumbled. "I didn't tell you his last stop." 

Buffy folded her arms and waited. Spike's voice was low, and tense. "He spent about five minutes standing in front of Doc's old apartment." 

There was a long pause as each person stared at each other, stunned. Finally, Buffy broke the quiet, her voice strained. "What was he doing?" 

"Not much, from where I was standing," Spike said. "He was just standing there, hell if I know what for. From there, he went straight to that dive over by the bus station. Stayed there, far as I know, until sunup." 

"I think this is more serious than it seems," Giles said, a note of anxiety creeping into his voice. "Tara, Spike, tell us everything you know and sensed about this thing." 

Tara began to describe what her senses had told her, and then Willow described meeting the man. The others listened intently, too intent to notice the tall figure across the street, walking away from the Magic Box.

  
Solitude1056 

  


Marcus made quick work of the distance between the corner store and his destination, throwing the peach pits into the gutters as he finished the small meal. College students passed him on the sidewalk, curious to see one of their age headed so obstinately in the opposite direction. Marcus ignored their friendly glances, and picked up his pace. He was near enough, he could tell instinctively, and soon the small apartment complex was on his right. This was it, and that's the number on the door - but before he could congratulate himself, he looked through the front window to see nothing but boxes and furniture covered with sheets. Confused, he glanced around the empty courtyard. 

_He's gone,_ Marcus thought, _and it doesn't look like he's been back recently, nor like he intends to return soon._ Marcus stared through the window as long as he dared without a neighbor getting suspicious, and then walked a few paces to a nearby bench. It was a few minutes before he moved again. He took out his notes and a pen, and carefully drew a line through the last name on his list. _That's all of them,_ he thought.

  
Marie 

  


_There they go again,_ thought Dawn as she saw her sister and her friends through the shop window. _They're always talking about something important, and I'm never there when they do it! Bet they shut up when I walk in._ Suiting actions to thoughts, she shoved the Magic Box door open abruptly. 

"Whatcha doin'?" Dawn smirked wryly when everyone's heads turned sharply from the huddle around the counter. 

"Nothing," Buffy replied. "Why aren't you at school? Don't you know I could get into trouble if you just take off whenever..." 

"It's Saturday!" Dawn rolled her eyes in exasperation. 

"Oh. Well, okay, just don't-" 

"- Touch anything... I know!" Dawn plopped into a chair at the table and glanced over at the vampire. "Hi, Spike." 

"Hey, Little Bit. Seen any strangers hanging around?" 

"Spike..." warned Buffy. 

"What? She needs to know if there's some stranger knockin' about who could have a connection to Doc." 

Dawn paled at the mention, and shook her head. "I haven't seen anyone like that, though I did bump into a cute-looking guy just now on my way here from dance class." 

"Cute looking, huh, Dawnie?" This from Xander. "How old was he?" 

"About my age, I guess, though there was something in his eyes... Sorta, well, sad." 

"Well," said Willow, "it couldn't've been the same guy. This guy was at least in his twenties. Buffy, we haven't told you the strangest part. He felt just like you!" 

  
Solitude1056 

  


Marcus was down to one option, and it wasn't the most pleasant but it might serve some of his purpose. Shouldering his rucksack yet again, he pulled into himself, leaving only a bit of his awareness open for the possibility of another attack. Retracing his steps towards the college, he paused long enough to inhale the sweet scent from the two witches before opening his awareness further and listening closely. There, down that street. Marcus followed the inner scent, pacing himself as he listened for the distant moaning that would warn him of his pursuers, but the streets were still. Two more doors, and a set of low steps down to the basement apartment. 

_I should've known,_ he sighed, and pushed open the door, fighting off a sudden sense of defeat. 

"Uncle?" 

Doc glanced up from his cup of coffee, blinked twice, and nodded absent-mindedly. "Come in, boy. Coffee?" When Marcus nodded, Doc pointed to the pot. "You were sight-seeing, I imagine. I was expecting you hours ago. Last night, even." 

Marcus dropped his bag on the floor and poured himself a cup of coffee. "I was busy." He kept his back to his uncle, hiding his irritated expression. 

"Mmm-hmm." Doc hummed tunelessly, turning a few more pages, apparently forgetting Marcus completely. The young man twisted his lips sardonically and cleared off an overstuffed chair. Folding his long legs under him, Marcus sat down to wait. Another minute or two, and Doc slammed the book shut. The echoing noise was a thunderclap in the cramped apartment. Marcus continued to sip his black coffee without reacting, and Doc smiled suddenly, a warm expression. "My, my. Years pass. You have your father's height, my boy. At least you got your mother's eyes." 

Marcus paused, then smiled back at his uncle, almost despite himself. _ Of course,_ he thought, _he'd have to bring up Mother._ Another sip of the bitter blackness, and Marcus began to relax. Part of it was sitting down in relative safety, and part of it was the somehow comforting smell of his uncle's study - mothballs and old man's cologne. 

Doc let Marcus sit in silence, humming at points as he shifted awkwardly in the chair. Marcus ignored the twinges of discomfort his uncle displayed, knowing full well Doc wouldn't explain. The two regarded each other for a long moment before Marcus broke the quiet, and began to tell his uncle of the argument with his cousins. In exhaustion and relief, Marcus' native lilt began to show through as he dropped the carefully modulated flat California accent. 

Doc smiled vaguely at the familiar cadence, a peculiar mish-mash of the young man's upper class British father and his mother's adopted Italian. Marcus left out his dalliance with the witches, though, and skipped the search for his father's classmate. _That,_ he decided, _is enough until I know whether he'll help me._

Doc considered Marcus carefully, his expression thoughtful. "Humans have short lives, my boy," he finally replied. "I'm surprised your father lived this long, myself." Marcus raised his eyebrows at his uncle, the familiar expression that demanded a response. Doc laughed, recognizing Marcus' mother. 

"One other thing, Uncle. They're hunting me." 

Doc didn't look surprised. He simply narrowed his eyes at Marcus. All pretense of senility immediately vanished. "Hunting, you say." 

Marcus described the attacks in curt summary. The sudden stiffness in his body made it clear he had no interest in too much more. Doc noted the white knuckles beneath the stern expression, the suddenly naked eyes that reflected steel and darkness, just like his mother's. Doc pursed his lips, closed his eyes, and then opened it. He appeared to have come to a decision. 

"I'm not going to protect you." 

"Uncle..." 

"Don't play the fool around me," Doc replied, his smile sweet and purposefully bland. "I've been doing it a lot longer than you, boy, and I'm a lot better at it." Doc ran his finger around the edge of his coffee cup, appearing to be enjoying a private joke. "I suspect you have more options than you realize, but even if you don't, it's between you three." 

Marcus stared into his coffee, wondering how much Doc already knew. 

  


_[~ continue to next chapter ~][1]_

   [1]: 03-12.htm



	4. Chapter 3

dark alchemy : part I - Dissolution : Chapter Three

  
**

chapter three

**

Humanitas 

Buffy's gaze flickered back and forth between Willow and Tara. "Like **me**? What do you mean?" 

"Tara should really tell you, she's the one who noticed," Willow suggested, looking at Tara. 

"Well, um, h-h-he seemed sort of, well, Slayer-y," Tara said, then shook her head. "No, that's not right. I mean, he... You know how people have a certain, um, feel?" Blank looks all around. "Well, like Faith felt like Faith, even in Buffy's... body." 

That earned her a black look from the Slayer. "Oh, really?" 

"Oh, I'm sure nobody who's not a witch or a demon or something could've told..." Tara backpedaled quickly. 

"Yeah, I didn't even notice," Willow added helpfully. "Tara was the only one who could tell." 

Buffy ground her teeth just a bit, before nodding. 

"Well, there's not much more," said Tara. "He just felt like you." 

"Ns wht sk s'fr." 

Xander looked at Spike. "Could you please not talk with your mouth full? I mean, gross." 

"Swwu." Spike swallowed, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and started over. "Bloke knows which end of a stake is up, is all." 

"Right," said Buffy, taking charge. "Willow, Tara, and Giles, see what you can find out about Doc. Spike, you and Xander come with me..." 

"Um, I'm a bit combustible at the moment," said Spike. 

"Yeah," replied Xander, "and we wouldn't want that." 

"Boys!" Buffy snapped. "Okay, Spike, you help here. Give Giles everything you know about Doc. Where you heard of him, what you saw, anything. Xander, you and I are going to check out Doc's old place." 

Dawn, who had been listening quietly, chipped in. "What about me? What can I do?" She smiled hopefully at her sister. 

"_You_ stay here, where it's safe." 

"Huh! It's always the same. Dawn stay here, Dawn don't touch, Dawn be quiet! I'm nearly _fifteen,_" Dawn complained. 

Anya put her arm around Dawn. "I have some nice menial tasks that you can do around the shop. Not for money, though." 

"Gee, thanks," Dawn grimaced, and suddenly something occurred to her. "Hey, Doc _is_ dead, isn't he?" 

  
Solitude1056 

  


The room had been silent for several minutes while Marcus stretched his legs and washed out his coffee cup. No sense in disturbing the careful illusion his uncle had wrapped around the place. _I wonder why,_ he puzzled. Normally his uncle had more than enough defenses that a simple illusion would be superfluous. Doc had stopped shuffling papers on his desk and gone back to reading when suddenly his head snapped up and he hissed through his teeth, a strange whistling sound. His expression was still congenially vapid, but Marcus wasn't fooled. 

"I have visitors arriving, Marcus," his uncle said. "You need to leave now." Marcus nodded and turned to put the coffee cup away, searching for its original location on the side table. "No," Doc continued. "No time for it to be perfect. Close enough will do. Just go." 

Startled, Marcus whipped his head around to stare at his uncle. "What? What's wrong?" 

"I told you, visitors. Don't make me repeat it, time is short." Doc was clearing up the table - actually, he was putting it in even greater disarray than previously. Marcus realized his uncle was moving the physical pieces to reflect the illusion, and wavered, in confusion. _He's scared,_ he realized. _What the hell?_ Marcus grabbed the strap of his rucksack and prepared to swing it over his shoulders. 

"I said, _get OUT!_" and his uncle's lightening demon abilities once again startled Marcus as he felt the rapid tongue slap him into turning around and shove him between the shoulder blades. The rucksack caught on the doorjamb, and Marcus cast a glance at his uncle before he dropped the bag on the steps. Marcus barely had time to take a breath before launching himself through the apartment door. 

He cursed leaving the bag behind and took the basement steps three at a time, casting himself out into the empty street. His blood pounded in his ears as he concentrated: _nothing, nothing._ He could mask his body, he could even mask his shadow, but he couldn't mask his footsteps - and they were still echoing down the empty street as he threw himself against the wall opposite his uncle's apartment door. He clutched the wall, focused on _nothing,_ as a young woman and her tall male companion came around the corner. 

They stopped, and for a split second, Marcus was certain they'd seen him - and then he realized they were listening to the sound of his footsteps, still echoing. He forced himself to breathe, slowly and deeply, holding his concentration. It was one thing to use the night's shadows to do half the work for him, but another thing altogether when it was middle of the day on a sidewalk in full sun. _Just hope they're not powerful witches too,_ he thought frantically, _or my hiding place won't last long._

"No, I don't think so," the guy was saying, as they got closer. They'd picked up their pace when they heard the footsteps but appeared to relax at seeing no one in sight. 

"Yeah, right." The blonde sounded irritated, and the guy appeared to take the hint and shut up. 

Marcus watched as they approached his uncle's door. He realized the illusion was solid to them as he watched the blonde tear down the boards so convincingly boarded to the doorframe. He had to smile to himself - his uncle's illusions were notorious for having as much physical strength as the real thing. This girl must be amazing - and she looked familiar. His concentration faltered for a second as he tried to remember where he might've seen her. Catching his breath, he returned his attention to _nothing_ before the dark-haired companion glanced around the street again. 

_This is the one that frightens my uncle? Some girl and a guy who doesn't even help her break down the door?_ Marcus was completely at a loss. The town had a neutered vampire who went shopping for scented candles at ten in the morning, his sole lead had relocated, and his uncle was in hiding. His uncle wasn't afraid of the twins; his uncle wasn't even afraid of gods. To the best of Marcus' remembrance, Doc wasn't afraid of anything... until now. 

  
Liquidram 

  


Doc closed his eyes, concentrating carefully. _Nothing._

**_Father!_**

His son's voice assailed him just as the door was kicked in with the force of an F5 tornado. 

_Shatter and silence!_ He projected angrily at Aeralyus, shutting him off. Doc watched the boy and Slayer look over his apparently empty and abandoned apartment, barely risking a breath. After a rudimentary search, they started to leave, but not before the boy leaned over and picked up the bag that Marcus had left behind. 

Doc waited until they'd left, and allowed himself a small smile. 

  
Solitude1056 

  


It was a long ten minutes before the two reappeared on the steps of his uncle's apartment. Their voices were hushed, and had a disappointed air to them... until he realized, they weren't disappointed. They were on their guard, each glancing sidelong around him, through him, up and down the street - and the dark-haired companion was carrying his rucksack. Marcus froze. _How-? Why didn't my uncle's illusion cover my bag?_ _How did they find it? Why could they find it?_ Marcus fought his rising panic. 

It was several long minutes before Marcus could bring himself to push away from the wall. He had no inclination to go back to his uncle right away, not while his uncle was on full defense against these two seemingly harmless humans. His mind turned in rapid circles, confused, overwhelmed, exhausted, and terrified. 

He had thought his cousins were terrifying, and here was something much worse? He'd reached his limit. Slowly he relaxed his concentration, and the tall dark-haired young man materialized on the sidewalk as if stepping over a threshold. Squaring his shoulders, he began to follow the blonde and her companion. He had to get his stuff back. 

  
Liquidram 

  


"Father is such a stupid ass!" 

Talia sulked as she finished applying the last layer of fingernail polish to her toes. Aeralyus had warned her of their father's reaction before he'd left to pick up Marcus' tracks.

"Damn fool has finally lost it," she muttered aloud. "This mess could have been taken care of years ago." 

_Why did the men in my family have to be such idiots? I know what's best for them, but they never listen._ She scowled as her hand slipped, leaving a smear of crimson lacquer across the bedspread. _ Now we're stuck in a second-rate hotel in a Hellmouth, of all places. This place doesn't even have a decent Russian restaurant, let alone any good sushi._ Talia's thoughts ended abruptly when the mirror shattered. 

She swore again, this time at her father's delayed backlash, regarding the spilled nail polish and broken glass with mounting aggravation.

_I,_ she told herself sternly, _have had enough of this._

  
Humanitas 

  


Buffy's eyes went immediately to Giles as she entered the Magic Box, Xander trailing in her wake. She called out, "Find anything?"

"Not as such, no." Giles looked worried. "We know Doc had some connection with Glory, but the _Book of Tarnis_ doesn't mention any demons that match Doc's characteristics. I hope your venture was a bit more successful?"

"Maybe. Doc's place was pretty trashed. Looked like it'd been empty for a while."

"And a good thing too," chimed in Xander, "cause I was ready for trouble."

A smirk appeared on Spike's face. "Yeah, Harris. Lot of good you'd do against one of those lizard things."

"Hey, I'm not the one who went flying."

"Caught me by surprise, is all." Spike's face was stony. "I'd've had him if it weren't for that tail."

Buffy ignored them. She put the bag on the table. "We found this. It didn't seem to fit with the rest of the place."

Willow pulled the zipper on the main compartment on the bag, and emptied the contents onto the table. A well-worn and slightly fragrant change of clothes, a jacket, and a slightly more fragrant pair of socks fell out. Her nose wrinkled. "Ooh, stinky. Human, but stinky. Hey, Giles, have you ever seen this book before?" It was a small leather-bound volume, a little larger than an average paperback.

Giles opened the book. "No, I can't say I have. It seems to be written in a Saxon dialect. I'm a bit rusty, I must confess, but I think I can make it out." He smiled to himself. "I haven't read anything like this since I was in school."

Giles handed the book to Tara, who paged through it as Xander pawed through the bag. He pulled out a plain wooden box, and turned it over several times, unable to find an opening. Handing it to Willow, Xander continued digging through the bag. 

"We may have something here to translate this," Tara suggested, and turned to the bookshelf to look.

"Well, this is in English," Xander declared, and pulled some wrinkled papers from the outside pocket. "Ethan Rayne."

"What?" Buffy was all attention. "What does that creep have to do with this? Sorry, Giles."

"No, I quite agree, though I might phrase it a bit more... colorfully. If Ethan is involved in this matter, we must be on our guard. He's quite dangerous."

"Not to mention crazy." Xander was still going through the papers he'd found. "Boy, this guy's handwriting is terrible." He looked up. "Um, Giles? Have you been by your apartment yet?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

"Because here's your address."

  
Little One 

  


Marcus hesitated, taking a second to center himself before pushing open the door. The bell jingled, startling him, and in the door's reflection, he caught quick sight of himself and grimaced. His black shirt hung untucked from his jeans, his dark hair was going in every direction, and his face looked sunken and exhausted, the nose even longer and sterner than usual. _This is how I deal with the enemy,_ he thought bitterly, hoping for a second that they'd just return his backpack and he could move on without trouble. He doubted it. 

He paused just past the threshold. He took in the hushed room, the long counter, and the shop girl hovering near a table. With enough studied cheerfulness to make him wince, she welcomed him to the shop. He glanced over her head, and saw the young woman who had been at his uncle's apartment; Marcus' focus narrowed, sweeping the shop for signs of his belongings. The shop girl beside him had become sulky, as if she was taking his silence personally. She welcomed Marcus a second time, less hopefully, and he nearly snarled at her as he stepped further into the shop. 

_I am in no mood to deal with retail now,_ he thought. Someone whispered something that he couldn't make out. He sensed movement near the back of the shop, but his eyes hadn't completely adjusted yet.

"Go in the back. Yes, now," a soft voice suddenly said, and while it was a girl's voice, it clearly brooked no argument. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a young girl with long, shiny dark hair ducking her head nervously as she brushed past him to disappear behind curtains at the back of the shop. William the Bloody was perched on a tall wooden stool, but as the girl departed, the vampire stared stone-faced at Marcus and moved leisurely to position himself behind the petite blonde girl. Marcus noted, unsurprised, that the position also happened to be directly between Marcus and the back exit. Marcus curled his lips in recognition of the vampire, not quite a smile nor a grimace, and his eyes flickered to the table. There was his rucksack, its innards spilled out upon the scarred wood. Marcus' eyes opened wide, anger flaring around the edges of his self-control. 

He could see the same boy from his uncle's apartment, sitting on the back of a chair holding Marcus' other shirt against him for fit. Marcus glared at him. The boy responded by puffing up like a cockerel looking for a fight, but he made no motion otherwise, instead glancing from the blonde to the older man, clearly puzzled. Marcus' brows came down in a straight line of indignation. 

The blonde was staring at him, her eyebrows raised, waiting. 

The older man cleared his throat and moved to stand in front of the rucksack. Marcus turned his stony gaze to the older man, and slowly nodded, but giving the impression of a short, formal bow. The blonde girl tensed in anticipation of combat. He could smell her distrust; she reeked of tension and controlled power. He tasted her scent a second time, and wondered if the shock showed in his face. _Bloody hell, she's a Slayer,_ he realized, _ I thought they all died before they reached seventeen._ Then another thought occurred to him: _why would my uncle be scared of an everyday thing like a Slayer?_

The older man interrupted Marcus' confused thoughts. 

"Uh, yes," he said in a crisp British accent, "How may we help you?" 

"You have my bag." As he spoke, the witch from the night before stepped into his line of vision from behind the shelves and moved to stand beside the redhead. The witch gazed at him with clear eyes and murmured something to her lover, who nodded, tense. 

Marcus exhaled and swayed almost imperceptibly before he caught himself, fighting to keep his knees from buckling underneath him. _No! Gotta hold on just a little longer,_ he thought angrily. The Slayer reached out as if to catch him, then jerked her hand away, her expression clearly confused and angry at something. Marcus was torn between wondering why, and being offended at her peculiar reaction, and being angry with himself for showing weakness. 

"I'm sorry, I just - " she stopped herself as Marcus struggled to contain himself. He wasn't sure how to deal with this, and bit back the instinct to grab his stuff and run. _They may know something,_ he reminded himself, _but they're still dangerous._

  
Liquidram 

  


As soon as he was certain the two kids were away from his door, Doc relaxed and dropped onto the sofa, his breathing still shallow. He remained unmoving for a good thirty minutes. 

"I'm getting too old for this," he muttered aloud. 

Now that was a good one. Too old. He shook his head, amused. The twins weren't aware of his intentions, but being here had meant discovering the Key before Glorificus did, which promoted his own plans quite nicely. In fact, the Key had walked through his door just when he was beginning to despair it would be located in time. Its disguise was perfect; it revealed fear and disgust when he allowed it to view his true self. The Key had truly believed it was human. However, the past was past; no one would benefit from dwelling in it. 

_First Marcus defies the twins, and then he comes to Sunnydale... naturally the twins would be right behind him. What did the boy expect,_ he asked himself crossly. _ All of them here risk my plans._ He didn't want to think of what would happen if the Slayer discovered he was still alive. Doc leaned over to pour another cup of coffee, and every injury protested. 

_I am definitely too old for this._

  
Little One 

  


Spike stood rigidly behind Buffy, smirking at the thought of knocking the boy down a peg or two. That momentary swaying had to be a ploy. _Bloody strong and silent, needs saving,_ Spike grumbled to himself, _sounds like a bad personals advert in the Manchester Times._ The sidelong glance from Marcus unsettled Spike. He would have rather the stranger had showed a little fear. 

Buffy took a shaky breath. She was shocked at the power emanating from the young man. She had never felt that before. _Was that what Tara had meant when she said he had felt like a Slayer? Is that what people feel when they touch me? Or is this because of my Slayer side? What does that mean?_ Buffy shook her head, refusing to follow the thought further. _This is impossible._

Buffy studied the stranger, sizing him up, judging his weaknesses and strengths with the critical eye of a seasoned warrior. He wasn't tall so much as long, in leg, arm, and body. His harsh cheekbones and patrician nose were in dramatic contrast to his chapped and bitten lips. When he finally looked back at her, she narrowed her eyes at his gray eyes, fathomless as moonlight on water. Time seemed to stop as she remained paralyzed. Buffy steeled herself, realizing that the gang was waiting for her. 

"So?" she asked the stranger in a tightly clipped voice. "I don't know who you are, or what you want, but I _do_ know where this bag was found. Which might lead us into thinking you're someone we don't need hanging around." For a split second, it seemed to Buffy that the stranger wasn't nearly as in control of himself as he wanted to appear. 

Marcus glanced pointedly at the rucksack. "That's my property you have your hands all over...find anything interesting?" 

"Well, uh," the older man began, slowly pulling off his glasses, "we did find a few interesting papers." Giles placed the notes on the table in front of Marcus. 

"I don't see why I should explain myself to you, but if you insist... the short story is my father..." Marcus hesitated, squinting his eyes as if trying to see a long distance. "My father... died recently. He left a request that I personally deliver several letters to friends of his from his university days. Unfortunately, it seems only two are still alive. The addresses are for those two men." 

"What's the long story?" Xander said. "Because that's often the Danger, Will Robinson part." 

Marcus wrinkled his brow quizzically, and shrugged. "Who's Will Robinson?" 

Buffy choked back laughter at Xander's disgusted expression, but her face drained of all expression as Marcus glanced over at her, disdain obvious on his face. He was staring at Buffy with such disturbing intensity that the short hairs on her neck stood up. She didn't fear him, but neither did she like him, exactly. Buffy couldn't put her finger on it. At first, she was disconcerted by his stare, but now she was furious, both at him and at herself for her reaction. She noticed there were silver flecks in his eyes that seemed to spark. 

Buffy gritted her teeth and stood up abruptly. She shot a glance at Giles, who answered it with a nod. Buffy cast another glance at the stranger and headed for the back room. She wanted Dawn out of the shop altogether before it got even more tense. 

Spike listened to Buffy's retreating footsteps. He'd been pleased by the venomous looks Buffy had shared with this stranger, but when the air turned prickly with heated tension, he was worried and angry. She was his, dammit, and nobody but nobody was going to hurt her, and all Spike saw in Marcus was a great deal of hurt. 

  


_[~ continue to next chapter ~][1]_

   [1]: 04-12.htm



	5. Chapter 4

dark alchemy : part I - Dissolution : Chapter Four

  
**

chapter four

**

Humanitas 

Dawn stood in the back of the shop, amidst the training equipment. She hated the smell back here, all sweaty and gym-classy. Buffy might be the Slayer, but her sweat smelled just as bad as anyone else's. Dawn made a mental note to give her sister a hard time about that. 

The sound of voices drew her attention. The stranger's voice was warm and rich, deeper than Spike's. She'd only gotten an impression of him but he did look more like that creepy old Doc than she liked. She just couldn't put her finger on what it was in particular that reminded her of Doc. 

The curtain was pulled aside, and Dawn straightened up quickly. 

"Buffy, what's going on?" 

"Never mind. Go home." Buffy seemed nervous. Dawn was certain this wasn't Doc, even if he looked a little like Doc, and he obviously wasn't a vampire. 

"I don't want to go home. You never let me help. I won't get in the way, and I can do stuff. I..." 

"You will go home. _Now._ I don't want you getting hurt." 

"But..." 

"Go!" Buffy gave an exasperated sigh. "We'll talk about it later." 

"Fine. I didn't want to hang around here smelling your stinky old sweat, anyway." That got her a very satisfying response as she stepped out the back door. 

  
Solitude1056 

  


The Slayer stepped back into the shop, and Marcus could hear the sound of a door slamming somewhere in the back. He remained silent as the Slayer approached him, her chin tilted upwards to stare him straight in the face. He met her stare boldly, and glanced pointedly at his belongings for a third time. 

"No," she said clearly. "You're not getting your stuff until you tell me what it was doing where we found it." 

Marcus kept his face still, but his eyebrow arched almost imperceptibly at her commanding tone. "I left it there, obviously." 

"On the doorstep of a boarded-up apartment." This from the dark-haired guy, who'd at least finally put Marcus' shirt back on top of the rucksack. 

"That's right." Marcus' gaze flickered between them, finally resting on the Slayer in front of him. "I had my own way in." 

"And that would be how?" The Slayer's voice was skeptical. 

"You never heard of windows?" 

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, but she quickly caught it. "So you get in through the window, into a board-up abandoned apartment because what, you like the smell of mothballs?" 

"No, I was looking for the man who lives there." 

"He doesn't live there now." 

"It looked like he still did..." Marcus caught the witches' expressions. "Boarded-up doors don't mean it's empty," he added. _I hope I sound convincing,_ he thought, his mind flitting through various explanations as he weighed each and promptly discarded each in turn. _But if my uncle didn't want them to know he was there..._

"He's dead." This from the shop girl, behind him, in a clear voice as if she thought she was being helpful. 

Marcus could feel his face paling under the shock. _That's why he's scared of her._ If he had her measure, when this Slayer thought someone was dead, she expected the person to stay that way. He hoped they thought he was shocked for another reason. _Now I just need to make them believe it's the truth._

"That's it, then," he said, exhaling suddenly. Marcus sank down onto the nearest chair and put his head in his hands, still spinning through possible stories. _Think, think, dammit,_ he chided himself. 

Willow and Tara exchanged a surprised glance, and both looked at Buffy. She met their eyes with a puzzled expression and shrugged slightly. Marcus let his hands drop, and leaned back in his chair as if completely dejected. When he spoke, his voice was the flat tones of the defeated, and he looked at nothing in particular. 

"I was hoping he could help me." When no one spoke, he continued softly. "That man is - was - one of the greatest linguists in the occult underworld." 

"You mean that demon." The vampire's voice dripped with sarcasm. 

Marcus ignored him. "I have... papers, that I need translated. It's a matter of far more importance to me than the racial background of whomever can translate them." 

"And you were _where_ when we found your bag?" The dark-haired young man smirked. 

"Hiding, obviously." Marcus snorted. "I saw you through the window, and neither of you looked nearly old enough to be the man I was looking for. I didn't have time to hide my bag, too, though." Marcus stole a look at the Slayer. Her eyebrows were raised, and she glanced over his head at several of the others before she turned to look at him again. She seemed to have come to a decision. _Let's hope it's one where she believes me,_ he thought, a touch of desperation ringing through his mind. 

  
Liquidram 

  


Aeralyus wandered the streets of Sunnydale, admiring the college girls and keeping one eye open for Marcus. He could sense Marcus' traces, but they were too dispersed to pinpoint a location. The frustration seeping into his mind from his sister was contagious, and he focused on the college students again to block her out. Aeralyus did not intend to get in his father's way, but they were so close. 

_That boy is smarter than Talia gives him credit for,_ he thought smugly as he tried to discern the older traces from the newer ones. 

_I heard that._

Aeralyus grinned openly at his sister's cranky response. _I tried Father,_ he responded. _He was busy, it seems._

_I know._ She sounded a little out of breath. _He left you a message._

_Oh?_

_I'm cleaning it up as we speak._

Aeralyus laughed out loud, startling several people near him. He grinned good-naturedly at them, and still chuckling to himself, continued walking. The town wasn't that big... eventually he'd track down his stubborn cousin. He turned a corner and inhaled, throwing his head back and nearly laughing out loud again. 

_Talia,_ he commented smugly, _small towns do have their benefits._

  
Solitude1056 

  


She studied him for a second longer, then opened her mouth to speak - and the front door of the Magic Box was simultaneously blown off its hinges. 

Marcus immediately grabbed his stuff and spun to face the door, dropping to a crouch. Around him, the Slayer's companions reacted, shouting to each other as books fell and tarot decks swirled in the freezing wind. "Another apocalypse already?" Xander was shouting as he scrambled from where he'd fallen. Another strong gust of cold air blasted into the store, and books were falling as the shelves shook. 

"It's too early for vampires," the shop girl was hollering. Something crashed to the ground behind Marcus, and he fought to remain in place while he listened to the wind. _How long do I have, _ he thought frantically. 

"You can usually see vampires!" the redhead shouted back. Several books flew off the shelves and one slammed into the blonde witch. "Tara!" screamed the redhead, grabbing the witch and getting her down on the floor. Another gust of wind blasted the shop and the table was shoved across the floor. The two girls screamed behind him, and he flinched - and noticed that the Slayer had a stake out already. 

  
Marie 

  
Suddenly, everything went still, and instinctively he braced himself. The shop was completely silent - he noticed with surprise that every one of the Slayer's companions was braced to fight, and holding their breath. He sensed movement beside him, and knew it was the girl. He hoped she had as good instincts as Slayers were famed for as he reached out a hand to touch her shoulder.

"Quiet, Slayer, you don't know what you're up against." 

She recoiled from his touch. In not quite a whisper, she said: "Who the hell are you?"

  
Solitude1056 

  
Before he could answer, it seemed as though the world itself shuddered and the sound of shattering glass filled the air. Through the open doorframe, Marcus could see the shop across the street - its front window had just blown in. Under the returning wind he could hear a distant keening sound, but no one reacted. 

_They can't hear it,_ he thought, until he saw the witch's face. She'd gone as pale as the moon, her eyes large and unfocused, her pupils mere pinpricks as she listened. Her long hair had come undone and tendrils were wrapped around her face but she didn't seem to notice. He stared back, desperate, his own darkened eyes glinting silver reflections on a black surface. Her eyes met his, focused, and widened as she stared at him in horror. Embarrassed, he turned his head away from her as the keening grew louder. 

"Something's coming," the Slayer whispered to no one in particular. 

"Buffy -" the witch started to say, then stopped. 

Marcus glanced at the Slayer. _Buffy. At least I know what name to shout when I tell her to get out of my way._ The keening was growing louder. He was running out of options, and almost out of time. The wind started to build again, whipping through the shop. 

"Who **are** you," Buffy demanded a second time, her eyes never leaving the door.

  
Humanitas 

  
"I'm Marcus," he retorted. "You know the layout?" 

"You might say that," she whispered harshly, "Vamps usually come through the front door or the back door. They're creative that way." 

Despite the situation, he couldn't help letting a brief smile cross his face. It disappeared as quickly as it came. 

"These aren't vampires." 

  
Solitude1056 

  
She turned to stare at him, her eyes narrowed. "So you're a brain surgeon, too. You got an idea, clue me in." 

Marcus hesitated again, caught between fleeing - _just take the bag and go!_ - and staying. He just as quickly negated the second option, though. _They aren't part of this fight, and I don't need to make allies with enemies._ He glared at the Slayer from under his lowered eyebrows, and prepared to spring out of his crouch. As he began to unfold himself, he measured the distance to the door. The Slayer may have fast reflexes, but he gauged that he could match hers. As he raised his body to stand up, a blast of wind hit him with hurricane force, almost sending him sprawling but for a sudden grab from the Slayer. The crying sound inside the wind had doubled in volume. His ears were pounding. He was blinded, and didn't notice the Slayer letting go of him almost as soon as she'd pulled him back to the floor. 

"Your father -"

Marcus winced, and forced himself to consciousness long enough to twist around to face the older man, kneeling behind them. "My what?" he hollered as the wind shoved the words back down his throat. Giles repeated his question, one hand gripping the notes and the other holding onto the edge of the table. "What was your father's name?" 

"Siefer!" 

"I'm Rupert Giles!" 

Marcus stared in open astonishment, quickly followed by anger. _He knew all along, and he was playing me,_ he realized. Marcus wasn't pleased, but now he'd waited too long. He might not be able to get out - the wind was forcing them down to the ground, and seeming to pass right through the building. Panic was rising in his gut. 

_It's a good chance,_ Marcus figured, _the building's surrounded, or damn near close._ He closed his eyes in concentration, barely holding on, and the mental effort of keeping still made his knees buckle. His hands hit the floor, his head low as he panted desperately. They were calling to him, and there was nowhere to run. The crying became overwhelming, and Marcus wanted to scream to drown it out, but his lungs were being crushed under the pressure. 

  
Liquidram 

  


Doc poured coffee into his favorite mug, mumbling to himself. "Getting a little too easy to relate to you guys." He set the coffee pot down and as he reached for the sugar, the mug suddenly shattered, spraying him with hot coffee. _ You're getting predictable, too,_ he noted blandly. Slowly he reached for a towel, and began mopping the coffee off himself and then off the table. His expression blank, he hummed quietly as he finished cleaning the mess before setting down the towel and turning around. 

A stunning brunette was standing directly behind him. She towered over him, her ebony curls draping her shoulders and hugging her curves as they poured down to her waist. Her red dress barely covered parts... _well, parts that usually remain covered,_ Doc observed noncommittally. She smiled at Doc, a lightening display of sharp white teeth. An altogether unpleasant smile. 

"Good afternoon, Father." 

Doc eyed her, and then turned to take down another mug. He took his time pouring himself a second cup, humming tunelessly as he did so. _They revel in their beautiful shells,_ he thought, amused. _Just wait till those shells age as much as mine._ While his daughter preferred a dark sleek appearance, his son was blond, and compactly muscular. They did not resemble each other in their human forms, which worked to their advantage when it was more effective to pose as lovers than brother and sister. 

"Hmm, yes." Doc nodded, smiling congenially at his daughter but she wasn't fooled. She smiled back, nonetheless. He pointed to a chair, and they both sat. "Have you lost your brother, or is he off making trouble elsewhere?" 

"I didn't lose him, Father," she replied tartly. "He's busy." 

_I'm sure,_ Doc replied silently, and continued humming almost inaudibly to himself. Aeralyus, being the oldest by six minutes, was the more powerful of the two. He was capable of instant power when Talia was forced to concentrate for several minutes. It was a constant source of irritation with her, especially when he got cocky. _ They're a good team,_ Doc had to admit, although never to his children. _They quibble like any siblings, but they work as a well-oiled machine._ Like Doc and his own sister, the twins did not need to speak to communicate, and usually didn't unless they were among humans. And like Doc and his sister, they had worked to develop the telepathic ability between them to an especially sensitive degree. He suppressed a momentary sadness.

"Father," she said, a touch of exasperation around the edge of her voice, "you should be helping us, not playing the doddering old fool." 

His eyes flashed in response as he sipped his coffee. When he looked at her again, his human blue eyes were wide and naive again. "I have business of my own, Talia, and I'd expect you to not make trouble where I am busy." 

"Busy doing what?" she said, suddenly curious. 

_I'm sure you'd love to know,_ Doc thought, amused. "Nothing that concerns you," he replied out loud, "just a little of this, that. Doddering old fool kinds of things." He reached over for a spoon and stirred his coffee some more, humming as he watched the coffee swirl in the cup. Talia twitched in irritation, casting several glances at the window before turning her attention back to her father. 

"Do they include Marcus?" Her eyes glinted in the sun slanting through the windows. "Or can we finally finish what you started?" 

"Hmm," Doc began... and without warning, his eyes were pools of dark pitch as he stared at his daughter. "Talia," he began, a soft whispery sound that meant nothing but trouble, and she flinched. "I don't care what you do, as long as you take it elsewhere." 

Any facade of senility was again gone, and in its place was an angry demon. Talia knew her father was powerful enough, but angry, he could destroy her without a second thought. Sulky, she made a face at him, and started to speak. He brushed off her expression with coldness, refusing to let her respond. "I suggest, no, I insist that you and your brother take your argument elsewhere. I only intend to warn you once." 

  
Solitude1056 

  


"Willow!" Buffy suddenly cried from beside him. "Bring up a wall!" 

"A what?" came back a distant shout. 

"A _wall,_I need a wall!" Buffy's voice echoed in Marcus' ears. He crouched on the floor, his mind entirely occupied with fighting the urge to run out into the street and embrace the moaning seductive calls. 

He managed a glance over at the silent witch, and her eyes acknowledged his fight. He flinched, wishing he could hide from her - and Tara put her hand over his, stilling him as the wind rushed faster over their heads. A shelf went careening across the floor and slammed into the counter. He opened his eyes long enough to see the redhead struggling to say something, then Tara reached across and clasped Willow's hand in her free one. 

"It's, uh, enemies, fall, no wait!" Willow was crying in frustration. "Enemies, fly and fall, uh, uh, something arms, no-"

Marcus focused, and somewhere, distantly, he heard someone scream. 

  
Liquidram 

  


"But Father," Talia responded, her usually husky voice taking on a whining note, "Charles is dead. We've waited long enough. Aeralyus has had it figured out all this time, but Marcus wouldn't cooperate. Insisted on settling his father's estate first," she mocked. "He wouldn't listen to reason." 

Doc hummed for a second as he rearranged some of the books on his desk, before he appeared to remember her presence. "Perhaps, my dear girl," he finally said, "Marcus simply has a different definition of reason." 

"Father!" Talia sulked for a minute. "We won't be here any longer than necessary. I don't see why you wouldn't be happy to have us visit." 

"Because," he said, his eyes flashing again, "I don't want you in the way." 

"Oh, really," she mocked. "Do you honestly believe there is anything is this boring town that can harm us?" 

Doc's eyes narrowed and then closed. "Yes," he responded quietly, then opened his eyes. "Me." The room started to shift. The TV, which had been against the west wall, was suddenly visible on the opposite wall. Book titles changed and then disappeared. Sparks of energy flitted around Doc and Talia. "Your warning is up." For a split second, he smiled, a dangerous expression. 

"Father, wait - " Talia suddenly cried, her expression frightened. 

"That's enough!" 

Talia vanished. 

Doc slowly lowered himself back into his chair and pondered her departure. _Frightened,_ he thought. _She was frightened. Couldn't be of me, certainly, I've banished her enough in her life._ He reached over for his coffee cup, and finished the last few swallows. _It's practically a tradition with us._ After a few minutes, though, he realized she wasn't reappearing like normal, apologies on her lips, her brother not far behind. In fact, he couldn't sense either of them anywhere nearby. __

_Strange,_ he reflected. _I wasn't that angry... perhaps I am losing it, forgetting my own strength._ He set down the coffee cup, grasped the chair arms and pushed himself out of the chair. Groaning, he rubbed the back of his head and looked around for his shoes. _No, I don't think that was just me._ He stepped out of his house slippers, and slid on his street shoes. _Perhaps,_ the thought suddenly occurred to him, _Marcus was helping._

This pleased him immensely, and soon he was humming happily as he stepped out onto the street. 

  


_[~ continue to next chapter ~][1]_

   [1]: 05-12.htm



	6. Chapter 5

dark alchemy : part I - Dissolution : Chapter Five

  
**

chapter five

**

Solitude1056 

As abruptly as it had arrived, the wind was gone. 

Not abeyance, but stillness. Marcus discovered he'd been gripping the witch's hand with an intensity born of true terror. He kept his eyes closed until he was certain he was under control again. Somewhere behind him, the vampire's Cockney accent was reporting damage in the back room, and the younger man was already checking on the damage in the front. He could hear the shop girl uttering soft cries of frustration at the books scattered across the shop's floor. 

The Slayer was already on the phone, clearly leaving instructions to an answering machine to call the shop immediately. Slowly Marcus opened his eyes, unfolded despite his aching muscles. He heard the phone slammed down and footsteps approach him as he stood up. At the sight of Buffy's cold expression, the thought flashed into his numbed mind that perhaps his uncle was right to fear this woman. 

"One last time... Marcus," she said curtly. "Who are you, and what the hell have you brought to my town?" 

  
Humanitas 

  


Marcus met her stare without flinching, but a muscle in his jaw flickered. "It's a long story." 

"We've got time." Buffy nodded at Spike and Xander, who had quietly moved to flank Marcus on either side. Without turning her eyes from Marcus, Buffy asked, "Will, how long will it hold up?" 

"I'm not sure." Willow looked distinctly uncomfortable as she pulled out a tissue and wiped at the blood coming from her nose. "I mean, it's only really supposed to last for half a day, but the last one held out for a lot longer, even with those priesty guys wearing away at it. And I didn't have Tara to help me that time." She smiled sweetly at her lover. "I suppose we can keep it going... if only I'd know we only had to _think_ it, I wouldn't have worried about the right phrase." 

"Hush." Tara brought a box of tissues from behind the counter of the shop. "Lean your head back. I - I'm really starting to worry about these nosebleeds. They're getting worse. I h-h-hope I didn't hurt you. Sometimes sharing Power can be tricky." 

"I'll be okay, sweetie." Willow's voice was muffled and nasal as she replied through the tissue. "I can handle it... uh, Anya, is there any Tylenol behind the counter?" 

  
Solitude1056 

  
There was a muffled response from behind the counter, where Anya was still picking up scattered books that had been blown to the floor. Her head popped up, and a second later she placed a slightly battered bottle of Tylenol on the counter without stopping her tirade.

"And this vase! It's only got a ten-percent profit margin, and I had to order it from Bulgaria. Does he have any idea how much trouble this is going to be, replacing it? And this book, I could've sold it for fifty-seven dollars and ninety-five cents, not including tax. Now with the ripped cover I'll be lucky to get thirty-five. I could've made twenty dollars on it, and now look..." Anya frowned at Marcus. Clearly, she identified him as the sole culprit of the catastrophe. Muttering blackly, she went back to work. 

Tara smiled to herself at the barely audible grumbling. She popped the top off the bottle and shook out several Tylenol. She turned to see that Buffy was looking at Willow, concern clear on her face. 

"Will, a nosebleed _and_ a headache? That seems unusual. I thought you said you never got headaches anymore." 

Willow shook her head, slightly, and shrugged. "I don't. There was a bigger jolt this time, is all." Tara handed Willow the Tylenol, who took them without water, swallowing awkwardly. 

"She's right, there was," Tara told Buffy softly, her eyes glancing towards Marcus, whose eyes were trained on Willow. He looked worried; his gray eyes were large, his eyebrows just barely raised as he watched Willow continuing to mop her nose. 

"If you hadn't been bloody well holding hands with him," Spike interrupted, shrugging his head in Marcus' direction, "you might not've gotten a blast." Buffy's head swiveled to stare at Marcus angrily. Marcus took a half-step back, and averted his eyes from Willow. Spike looked smug. 

"I wasn't," Willow started to say, and Tara put a hand on her shoulder. 

"I-I, I was," Tara said quietly to no one in particular. Willow looked shocked. Behind Marcus, Xander frowned. Tara flushed, and ducked her head, speaking only loud enough for Buffy and Willow to hear. "He, he w-w-wasn't doing w-w-well. H-h-he was the one under a-a-attack." 

"But Tara," Buffy started, perplexed. Not being one who used magick, she wasn't sure how Marcus could have an impact on Willow, and her confusion showed in her face as she looked at the two witches. Behind her, Marcus twisted his lips in irritation and looked at Willow. 

"You," he started, not recalling her name immediately, and nodded when Willow looked at him. "I'm sorry. That was my fault. We had to do something, I didn't realize..." 

"Damn straight!" Willow burst out. "Stay out of things you don't understand. If I'd finished the incantation, your messing with it might've blown us all to the next town over." 

Instead of replying, Marcus simply nodded. The phone rang, and Anya's hand appeared from behind the counter to grab the phone and pull it down to her. There was a muffled sound and the phone was placed on the counter.

"Hunh?" Xander asked. Puzzled, he picked up the phone, listened, and then handed it to Buffy. "It's Dawn, she's home safe. You want to talk to her?"

  
Humanitas 

  
As Buffy took the phone, Marcus glanced towards the older man. "You knew my father?" 

"Yes. We were at school together." Giles extended his hand. 

"A pleasure to meet you," Marcus replied as they shook hands. 

_And a pleasure to drop this godforsaken flat way of talking,_ he thought, as he echoed Giles' crisp accent with a variant of his own. He ignored the group's reactions. Behind him, Buffy finished her phone call, turning to watch his discussion with Mr. Giles. 

"You do resemble your father. I'm sorry to hear of your loss," Giles added sincerely. "What brings you to Sunnydale?" 

"More importantly, what have you brought to Sunnydale?" Buffy was not sure she trusted this young man, and it bothered her to see her Watcher greeting him so cordially. 

Marcus turned angrily, his nostrils flaring. "I didn't bring them, they followed me. Believe me, I would much rather they didn't." Turning his body to block out Buffy, he faced Giles, glancing at the box on the table. "It will take me a moment to retrieve the letter from my father." 

"Excuse me," interrupted Buffy, "not to put a stop to English Old Home Week or anything, but I want an explanation before we go any farther. Now, I'm going to ask you one more time, and if I don't get an answer, I'm gonna throw you out to play with your friends out there." Her eyes got very cold. Marcus could see the Slayer clearly in them, but nothing of the girl herself. "Who. Are. You." 

Marcus' brain spun. He was pretty well stuck. On the one hand, the Slayer was not – could not be – his ally. _If my uncle is scared of the Slayer, there's no way I'm trusting her any farther than I could throw her._ For a second, he was distracted by the idea of touching her again, and gritted his teeth, forcing the thought down so he could focus on the issue at hand. 

_ I can't stand up to my cousins alone,_ he groaned silently. _Go figure the only ones who might help me are in the Slayer's camp._ He needed to maintain control, to keep a grip on things, or he'd be lost. Marcus looked at Buffy. A part of him reflected idly that it was worth the chance to look at her, even if all she'd done was glare at him in return. 

"Let me talk to Mr. Giles," Marcus said to her, his voice low in his throat, almost a growl. "Let me give him what I came to deliver, and if he'll hear me out, I'd like to ask him a few questions. Then I'll go." Marcus leveled his stare at Buffy, who met it without moving a muscle. She was obviously weighing her options, and he found himself holding his breath as he waited. 

  
Solitude1056 

  
"Wow! You sure got hit by that one!" 

The group jumped almost as one, startled. Tara yelped. 

An older woman, her gray hair still mussed, had stepped into the Magic Box. "Oh, hello! Anya? Is Anya here?" She smiled pleasantly at the shadowy group, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the shop's dark interior. The remains of the shop's inventory lay at their feet in piles, and a set of shelves tilted precariously against a table. 

Willow huddled with Tara as Buffy took advantage of the stranger's temporary blindness to wipe the shock off her face. She noticed Marcus' expression was blank, but for a second she thought he looked rather... pleased. Giles was staring at the woman open-mouthed, when Anya popped up from behind the counter. 

"Mrs. Patterson," she exclaimed. "How - how did you get in here?" 

"Through what's left of your door, dearie," Mrs. Patterson replied with a wide smile. The woman had moved further into the shop, stepping carefully over the inventory. "The city's work crews are supposed to be here in a few minutes to clean up the street. I figured you might want my sons to stop by and help you - oh!" She rounded a corner and came face to face with Xander and Spike, still flanking Marcus. They were obviously pissed off now that their own shock was under control. 

"Oh, uh, I've got someone to help already," Anya offered, trying to motion to Xander with her eyes, in hopes he could fill her in. Xander could only give her an uncomprehending shrug, and subtly jerked his head in Marcus' direction. 

"I can see that," the neighbor said, admiring the three handsome young men but balking slightly at their foreboding expressions. "I, uh, take it you're very upset about the, uh, sudden tornado," she giggled. When no one responded, she glanced at Buffy, who smiled weakly at her. "Well, uh, if you need any extra hands, Anya, my sons will be at my shop. I'll be across the street helping Frank clean up all that glass..." Her voice trailed off, and she turned, smiling at Anya in complete confusion, before quickly leaving the shop. 

Once the woman was gone, Buffy turned on Marcus but Willow was a step ahead of her. The redhead was furious, her eyes blazing. "What did you do? You think that's easy, doing a-a-a spell, and, and you just went and, and, and messed-" 

"I _said_ I'm sorry." Marcus' voice was low, and threatening. 

"You'd better be! Now we're just, just wide open, and, and -" 

"We're not." 

The flat statement caught Willow completely off-guard, and she halted mid-sentence, her eyes jumping from Giles to Buffy and back again. Tara stepped up to stand beside her, taking Willow's hand in her own. Willow squeezed Tara's hand gratefully, and swallowed hard, pointedly waiting for Marcus to explain. 

He shrugged. "I just, uh, tweaked it," he finally offered, his voice pitched low enough that Xander and Spike had to strain to hear him. Willow frowned. "No," he quickly added, "I wouldn't have if I'd known you were, uh, already, uh..." _at your limit,_ he added silently, but he suspected that wasn't truly accurate. The two witches, were easily his superiors in magick. _If one of them didn't have such a bad memory for incantations,_ he thought wryly. 

"How?" Willow prompted him, her curiosity getting the better of her. 

Marcus allowed himself a small smile, and met her eyes directly. "I just made it very specific. What's after me won't bother this shop again." 

Willow pursed her lips, considering this carefully, and beside her Buffy made a small noise of frustration. Willow looked at Buffy and shrugged slightly, her eyebrows raised. Buffy nodded in response, and turned to Marcus. 

"But if you walk through that barrier, they'll be waiting for you." 

Marcus said nothing. 

"Good," Buffy said. "I'll keep that in mind." 

"I won't stay long," Marcus told her, his eyes narrowed, then folded his arms. "I just want to talk to him." He jerked his head in Giles' direction. As Buffy opened her mouth, he added forcefully: "alone." 

Buffy didn't hesitate. "Giles," she barked, "in the back. Xander, Spike." She nodded to each. 

_She's a general,_ Marcus thought wryly, realizing that the two men flanking him understood her orders perfectly. 

"You got it," Xander replied evenly. 

"With pleasure," Spike added, sitting back on the table and lighting a cigarette without taking his eyes off Marcus. Spike caught Buffy frowning at him, and raised his eyebrows innocently. 

"One thing," Marcus suddenly added in a plaintive voice. "Do you have a bathroom in this place?" 

"In there," Buffy replied, jerking her head in the direction of a door labeled 'Gentlemen.' Buffy headed to the training room as Marcus grinned wryly at himself. He'd started for the bathroom when Spike's voice stopped him. 

"I'm going with you, mate." 

"Bloody hell," Marcus, said without turning around. "I'm just going to the bathroom." 

"It doesn't have any windows, Spike," Xander pointed out as he righted one of the chairs and sat down. 

"So?" Spike crossed to Marcus in two long strides. "I told Buffy I was gonna watch you, and that's what I'm gonna do." 

Marcus bristled, then shrugged nonchalantly. "Fine." 

"Spike!" Willow was indignant. When the vampire looked at her defensively, she added, "the bathroom's, uh, not big enough for two..." 

"Then I'll keep the blasted door open," Marcus spat at the vampire, sarcastically mimicking Spike's Cockney accent. "And you can tell the chippies to shut their bleedin' eyes." Spike tensed, clearly spoiling for a fight, and Marcus responded by shifting his weight in preparation. 

Willow took it in with a single glance. "Boys!" she snapped, and had the satisfaction of seeing both of them jump. Xander, out of the corner of her eye, was looking smug. "Spike, you stay here. Marcus, you be quick. I don't have patience for this right now." 

Marcus raised an eyebrow at Spike and didn't move, until the vampire finally stepped to the side, frowning at Willow for ruining his close call with a little fun. Marcus strode past him to the bathroom, and Spike took another long drag on his cigarette rather than say something to Willow and risk her anger. It was only a few minutes before Marcus opened the door again and returned to his original spot. 

"No," Anya suddenly said, surprising all of them. She came around from behind the counter, her hands on her hips. "My store is trashed, and you" - she glared at Marcus - "are not going to just sit there. Xander, start straightening up those books." She turned to Marcus and Spike. "You two can put those shelves back in place, and start checking the books. Anything that's been damaged, put in one pile. The ones that are okay, Willow can re-shelve. Tara, you and I are going to collect the tarot cards, see what we can salvage." 

"Uh, Anya," Spike finally offered, "we're supposed to be watching him." 

"What? So? You can watch him while you help him move the shelves." Anya wiped her hands on her skirt, and glared at everyone, clearly at the end of her shopkeeper tolerance. "Start moving! I want this place back in one piece!" 

"Giles, I don't trust him." Buffy paced the training room. 

"I'm picking that up," Giles responded, and sighed as he sat down on the beat-up couch. Buffy sat down next to him, and a second later got up and paced again. "I can see what Tara meant, though." 

Buffy turned, instantly alert. "What? What do you mean?" 

Giles shrugged. "It's nothing I can put my finger on, not the way Tara can. Just that there's something there. But I could be wrong," he added uncomfortably. 

"Hmph," Buffy snorted. "So what should we do about Strange Boy, anyway?" 

"I honestly don't know. But if he's telling the truth about this attack being solely on him, then once he's gone, it will be, too." 

"And if it's not?" Buffy took a few jabs at the punching bag, for emphasis. 

Giles shrugged. "I don't see what choice we have, right now. He's delivering something on behalf of his father. Once I find out what it is, we'll know more. I hope." He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, then put his glasses back on. 

"I don't trust him, at all." Buffy's voice was flat. Giles looked a little surprised, and waited for her to explain. She punched the bag a few more times, then sat down next to Giles. "What the hell just happened out there? Who're these 'they' he mentioned? And he... knows I'm a Slayer." 

"He what?" 

"Knows I'm a Slayer. He called me a Slayer, during the attack." She ran her hands through her hair, pulling it back severely before she spoke again. "How does he know that? Is there a neon sign over my head?" 

"I don't know. But there's definitely more than meets the eye when it comes to this young man," Giles finally said. Buffy nodded, satisfied. Giles caught her look, and shook his head before she could start speaking. "No, Buffy, I'll talk to him alone. In sight of you, but alone. I feel we should respect his request." 

"I just have this feeling, Giles," she started, and hesitated. 

"Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer?" he suggested grimly. 

Buffy nodded slowly, and stood. "Let's go-" 

"No, no." Giles sighed, and Buffy turned to see Giles with his eyes closed, obviously a great deal more exhausted than he'd let on. She made a face at herself for forgetting the fact that he was already tired from his trip back from England, and then seeing the Magic Box destroyed yet again couldn't have added to his joy. 

"I'm sorry, Giles, I forgot." 

"It's okay. Just give me a minute." Slowly he put his glasses back on, and smiled at her. "I just need a minute." 

  
Humanitas 

  


Giles leaned back on the sofa, his eyes closed, and almost instantly remembered his days at university. He was 20, and still smarting from the news that his life was laid out already for him. He'd stormed up the stairs towards the room he shared with Ethan, laden with his bags. He'd been in a mood during the whole return trip from his parents' house. 

"Stupid old duffer. How dare he?" Rupert's voice deepened in mockery of his father. "Young man, you are not ready to study sorcery," he mocked. "Haven't got the discipline. Best to wait until after you're initiated." He banged the door open. "What rot! I can handle it. I'll study magick with or without your blessing, thank-you-very-much!" 

Ethan looked up from where he was sprawled across his bed. 

"Funny you should say that, Ripper. We were just discussing that very subject." 

"What? Oh." Giles started, unaware that his grumbling had been audible. "Right. Ethan, Charles." He dumped his bags on his own bed, and took the cigarette out of his mouth to take a drink from the bottle Charles offered him. "God, it's good to be back," he said, swearing profusely at the slap of hard liquor on his tongue. 

Charles smiled dryly. "Yes, you sound like you had a splendid holiday. We were just talking about the possibility of working a spell or two. Interested?" 

_ I was,_ Giles thought. _ In the same place, I would be again, whether I was ready or not._ He sighed again, and stood up, carefully wiping his hands before heading out to speak with this strange young man.

  
Solitude1056 

  


Giles re-entered the shop, ignoring the industriousness around him. 

"Up here," he called to Marcus brusquely, indicating the loft over the shop. Marcus handed the books he was holding to Willow, and followed. He paused by the table where Xander and Spike had placed his belongings as they found them scattered about the shop. Digging through the pile, Marcus found the small wooden box. Anya watched him go, obviously frustrated that she'd just lost two extra bodies that could've been doing work. Buffy watched the two as well, and turned to Anya. 

"How can I help?" she asked, and Anya smiled, relieved. 

Marcus climbed the loft ladder and joined Giles under the eaves. Giles was already seated on one of the old chairs, and motioned for him to sit. Marcus carefully folded his long legs under him, holding the wooden box loosely in his hands, and didn't say anything. Finally, Giles took his glasses off, rubbed his eyes, and replaced his glasses before looking at Marcus. 

"I must admit, I'm curious," he said. 

Marcus seemed to consider that carefully, his eyes darting down to the activity in the Magic Box before answering. He pitched his voice low so his crisp enunciation would be audible only to Giles. 

"My father died three months ago," Marcus began. "I'm his only son, so it fell to me to settle his estate. He left a package of letters for me to deliver, and it appears that you're the only one I could find." Giles settled in the chair more comfortably, and motioned Marcus to continue. After another short pause, Marcus did so, his voice becoming deeper and richer as he slowly relaxed in the older man's presence. 

"My parents divorced when I was quite small, but I spent holidays whenever I could with my father - unfortunately, it wasn't as often as I would've liked. I had private tutors through my O levels." He paused, his tongue darting to lick his lips. "While I was at university in Oxford, I saw my father more often. But when I graduated, I returned to my mother's home, in Italy." Marcus noticed Giles nodding, and raised his eyebrows. 

"That," Giles said, "explains the part of your accent that I couldn't place." Marcus smiled suddenly, a sweet expression, and nodded in return. 

"My mother's vineyards are there." Marcus swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, sir, I'm just not used to doing this... with someone else around." He motioned to the box, and Giles frowned, confused. Marcus ducked his head and stared at the box in his hands for a second, finally whispering something so softly that Giles couldn't make it out. There was a gentle _click_ and the box lid popped open. 

Giles shifted in his chair, about to speak, but Marcus was intent on the box. Carefully he lifted the lid and placed it on the floor next to his chair. The box held several small letters. Giles couldn't see anything else in it, and noticing the young man's sadness, he averted his eyes politely. Marcus hesitated, then handed Giles the top envelope. _Rupert Giles_ was written in a delicate hand. The envelope was thin, a creamy coldness but yellowed slightly around the edges. Giles turned it over in his hands, pursing his lips thoughtfully. 

Marcus took another deep breath, and continued. "It's not a recent letter, Mr. Giles. I've always been aware of the box, since my parents divorced, but I never knew how to open it... I found the instructions with my father's..." his voice suddenly cracked, grief obvious. Giles bowed his head, giving the young man a chance to regain his composure. 

"The only other person named on a letter," Marcus smiled ruefully, "that's still alive is-" 

"Ethan Rayne," Giles suddenly interrupted. Marcus looked startled. "I, uh, had a feeling," Giles explained, "it was Ethan." 

"I did my best," Marcus said, "but I couldn't locate him other than that he resides somewhere in the United States now." Giles raised his eyebrows, drawing his own conclusions about what a permanent address in the States might actually mean for Ethan. 

"Do you know?" Marcus glanced at the box again. "I promised my father..." 

"I'm sorry," Giles said, almost truly regretting the information. "I have no idea of Ethan's location." _That,_ he reflected, _is pretty close to the truth._

"You don't need to read it in my presence, sir." Marcus was obviously exhausted, and that muscle in his jaw flickered again. Giles again was struck by the young man's similarity to his father, but Marcus interrupted his thoughts. "Could you humor me, then," Marcus asked sadly. "Before I go, just tell me, what was my father like, when you knew him? My father was always distant, if loving, so I never knew..." 

Giles thought a minute, and smiled sadly. "I suppose we have a few more minutes before we're called down," he said, glancing at Anya surveying the cleaning activity. "I knew your father in university. He, Ethan, and I were inseparable." Giles coughed politely, uncertain how the young man would respond, but he had his suspicions. "Your father is the one who introduced Ethan and I to magick." 

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "My father? ...He never mentioned such to me." _He didn't mention a lot of things to me, I suppose. Just like my mother didn't, either._ Marcus was beginning to feel quite stupid. 

"No, I suppose he wouldn't," Giles responded softly. "It wasn't actually his idea, from what I learned later." Giles leveled his gaze and the boy and decided to stop pretending as if Marcus didn't know what was going on. _I suspect he knows quite well what's going on,_ Giles thought grumpily. _A far sight better than I do, right now, most likely... and he's obviously acquainted with magick, as well, so this shouldn't be a shock._

  
Humanitas 

  
"Charles' fiancée, Aly, whom I imagine was your mother, Marcus," continued Giles, "had told him about some rather interesting magicks involving Essential Energy, but we could never get them to work properly. Charles quit practicing with us, I think because of that failure. I remember Aly was fairly well disappointed..."

  
Purplegrrl 

  
Marcus considered this seriously, and filed it away in his head. _When I've got some sleep again,_ he decided, _some real sleep, in a real bed, followed by a real shower..._

Giles studied the young man carefully. "I haven't thought of Charles in years, possibly since graduation." He almost started to say, _when I joined the Watchers Council,_ but caught himself in time. "My work put a wall between myself and most of my old classmates. Moving to Sunnydale further widened the rift. Only Ethan Rayne had managed to bridge that gap, and not often at that." _Far too often for my taste,_ Giles thought. Marcus was too polite to point out that he'd intuited Giles' feelings on the matter. 

"Charles was a good friend," Giles continued, "but he didn't run in the same circles as Ethan and myself. Your father had a passing interest in magick, I suspect due to your mother's influence as well that of Ethan's and mine. But his idea of true magick was the kind created with a strummed guitar and a lilting song." Giles chuckled to himself, remembering. "Likened himself to Byron and Shelley. Charles thought of himself as a poet, a musician, a bard, a romantic. He had had a reputation of always falling for the wrong woman. Ah, uh, no offense meant at your mother, of course," Giles added awkwardly. Marcus smiled and shrugged. Giles smiled again as he remembered how he'd always secretly suspected that Charles just used those angst-ridden, embattled relationships to fuel his art. Giles shook himself out of his reverie, and continued. 

"As a matter of fact, your father taught me to play guitar." Giles smiled wryly, and Marcus raised his eyebrows at the older man. "After he discovered that I could sing, he insisted that I learn, and then dragged me off to dingy, smoky coffeehouses to perform duets of his angst-filled, introspective compositions. Oh, I protested, and horribly. Wasn't my type of music, at all. I humored his music, he humored my magick," Giles finished with a soft chuckle. _But those had been good times... heady and exhilarating, in a way very different from the magick I did with Ethan and the rest,_ he thought, almost sadly. 

Marcus nodded slowly, then sighed as he replaced the lid on the box. Again, there was a gentle click as the lid locked into place. "I'm sorry to have bothered you... and your friends. But thank you for allowing me to deliver that... and thank you for telling me a little of my father." 

"Even if it's old news?" Giles prompted, and was rewarded with another sweet smile from Marcus. Startled, he reflected that the boy truly did display more of his father than his mother. _Thank God for that small thing,_ Giles thought. 

Giles stood up, stretching a bit, and turned to go, but at the last minute turned around, as if suddenly remembering something. Casually he removed his glasses, pulled out a handkerchief, and began to clean them. "One more question, though." 

Marcus paused, waiting. 

In a conversational tone, Giles asked him, "how did you know that Buffy is a Slayer?" 

Startled, Marcus couldn't think of what to say, at first. Peering at him in the darkening loft, Giles was certain Marcus was blushing. Giles waited patiently, blocking the young man's access to the loft ladder. 

"I..." Marcus began, and made a face. "Sir, she smells like one." 

Giles, surprised, put his glasses back on and studied the young man intently. At first, Marcus avoided his gaze, embarrassed, but finally he returned it evenly. _That's not the answer I was expecting,_ Giles thought, _but I'm not certain what answer I was expecting._ Giles nodded, and stepped aside to allow Marcus to descend first. 

  


_[~ continue to next chapter ~][1]_

   [1]: 06-12.htm



	7. Chapter 6

dark alchemy : part I - Dissolution : Chapter Six

  
**

chapter six

**

Liquidram 

The library was a two-story affair and considerably more modern than the one Simon reguarly visited in the city. He had no idea how to use the computer in the small kiosk inside the door, so had to ask a librarian where to find the newspapers.

"Shit," he mumbled, slamming the cover on the microfiche box. _Nothing._ Grabbing his bag, he got up, stretched and yawned loudly, ignoring the dirty look from the guy studying across from him. 

Hungry, Simon left the library and walked off the campus, looking for a place where he might be able to trade a chore or two for a quick bite. There was a small deli across the street. Simon figured it was as good as any to ask, and he pushed the button at the crosswalk.

While waiting for the light to change, he noticed a bright florescent sheet of paper, in easily the grossest shade of green. It was tacked on the pole with cheap postal tape. His attention piqued, Simon grabbed it, reading as he crossed the street toward what he hoped would be his first - and not only - meal of the day.

  
Solitude1056 

  


Anya was sweeping while Xander held the dustpan. A last few swipes and she stopped, shaking her head at Xander while she surveyed what was left of her store. She'd always been possessive of it, but now that Giles left her almost permanently in charge, she was determined to make it successful. Seeing Marcus climbing down from the loft, she glared at him again. She was not about to let him forget that she would bear a grudge until the Magic Box was back in one piece. 

Marcus stopped by the table, and reached over for his bag. Anya couldn't hear what he was saying to Giles, he spoke so softly. Anya noticed the young man seemed rather upset. Stiffly he shoved his few belongings back into his rucksack. 

Anya set her jaw and looked satisfied as she muttered, "Good. Now go far away from me and my shop." 

"An," she heard Xander say behind her. She turned and he kissed her on the nose. "It's okay," he added. "Mister Tall, Dark, and Bizarre is going to be leaving now." 

Buffy, standing near them, was obviously uncomfortable and watching Giles carefully. The older man appeared to be at ease with the stranger. Before she could speak, however, Tara signaled to her, drawing Buffy over to a quiet corner of the shop away from everyone else. 

"Buffy," Tara finally whispered. "I don't, uh, don't mean to tell you your business... b-b-but I don't think, I mean... I don't think he should go. I-I-I just think," she continued, "th-that no matter how far out of Sunnydale he got... he'd be back." 

"So what are you saying?" 

"There's... something I need to tell you, f-f-first," Tara replied. "Then... th-then you decide. And, and I think Willow should hear it, too," she added in a rush. "Giles and I are the only ones who know." 

"Know what?" Buffy's exasperated voice carried clearly to the rest of the shop. Marcus interrupted his discussion with Giles, and turned to look at her, along with Giles. Buffy glared at them both. She turned back to Tara, her voice lowered. "Okay. I'll listen." 

Tara's glance flickered in Marcus' direction, and Buffy caught her meaning. The Slayer projected her voice so she wouldn't have to repeat herself. 

"Giles, Willow, Tara, you're with me in the back. Spike, Xander, stay with Marcus until I come for you." 

"What about me?" Anya piped up. 

"If you've finished mooning over your lost profits, then join us."

As Buffy turned away, Anya poked her tongue out, and then actually _thought_ about her lost profits and grimaced. Sulking, she returned to the counter and began recording the day's damage. 

Marcus was still standing by the table, his expression wary. Spike had moved to flank him again. Buffy caught Marcus' expression and folded her arms, waiting. 

"I said I'd leave once Mr. Giles told me what he could," Marcus finally said, his voice catching slightly. "He has, and I'm going now." He tightened his grip on his rucksack. 

"No." Buffy's voice was flat, her eyes large in an otherwise impassive face. "I have questions, and you're not leaving until you've answered them." 

"I told as much as I know." 

"I don't believe you." 

The room was silent as six people held their breath as one, waiting. Tara winced slightly, reading the crackles of energy between Buffy and Marcus as if they were written in the air. Spike brought his hands up a bit, prepared for a fight. Xander kept his eyes trained on Buffy and didn't move, waiting for a signal. Finally, Marcus relaxed his grip on the rucksack. 

"And just what do you propose would make you believe me?" he offered, a sardonic tone creeping into his voice. 

"Don't make me repeat myself, for starters." She cocked her head at him, sarcastic. 

Marcus regarded her for another long moment before giving her a short formal nod that seemed more like an abbreviated bow. He seated himself in the nearest chair, stretching his legs almost insolently as he made himself comfortable. 

Buffy glanced at Xander and Spike, then headed for the training room. Giles and Willow followed. Tara didn't move immediately, though. To Spike's surprise, she stared at Marcus for a long breath before frowning to herself as she hurried to catch up with the others. 

Spike turned in satisfaction to Marcus, and sat down on the edge of the table. "Now, mate, you've got some questions to answer." 

"Do I." 

"That's right. Buffy may be holding off on asking her own questions..." Spike lit a cigarette, ignoring Anya's sputtering in the background. Spike leaned forward in Marcus' face, and leered. "But she didn't say we couldn't ask a few of our own." 

  
Talking Drum 

  


Giles drew the curtain shut behind him, and went to sit on the battered old sofa. While Tara and Willow got comfortable on the floor, he flipped the envelope over several times in his hands before sticking it in his shirt pocket. 

_Later, if I can,_ he promised himself, _I shall have to have another talk with that young man._

  
Little One 

  


"Fine. What would you like to know?" Marcus responded amicably. 

"For starters, why you'd mess with an old demon like Doc, and how you could've heard of him, but somehow miss the memo that he's been dead for months," Spike replied. "Also, what just decimated the shop. Why you stalk girls home. And why you switch accents like some people change clothes." Spike added, ticking the questions off on his fingers. "Speaking of which, by the way, you might think about introducing yours to some soap and water sometime soon." Spike wrinkled his nose. 

"This from someone who hasn't changed clothes since 1978?" Marcus retorted. "Right, William. Or do you prefer Mr. The Bloody?" Marcus snorted. "I always thought that vamps who used nicknames like that were compensating." 

Spike bristled. 

"And The Bloody?" Marcus continued, his tone vicious. "How long did it take you to think up that moniker? Tell the truth. You left off Wanker." 

"So that's how you want it, huh?" Spike snarled, throwing his cigarette to the floor and grinding it under his boot. Ignoring Anya's outraged gasp, he continued, "Respect your elders, boy. I've no problem teaching you the lesson." Spike took a step towards Marcus, his hands already forming fists, spoiling for a fight. "Start explaining or it's time for class." 

Anya slipped out from behind the counter and ran to Xander's side as Marcus uncoiled to his feet. Xander was startled by the vampire's hostile reaction. Glancing at Marcus, Xander watched Marcus' eyes narrow to slits, but otherwise appeared nonchalantly arrogant. _Spike's ready to fight if Marcus so much as twitches, _Xander thought. _Chip or no chip. On the other hand, not sure I want to get between those two._

Marcus stood his ground, appearing calm though inwardly he quaked. _Please don't make me have to stake the Slayer's friend,_ Marcus grimly implored anything that might be listening, _though I won't refuse a chance to teach him some manners._ He took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders, preparing for combat. "And you'll teach me what, how to be neutered? How to be a sloppy puppy, drooling after some bimbo with a stick?" 

"Don't you dare speak of the Slayer that way," Spike growled and took another step closer. Beside him, Xander frowned at Marcus' comment. 

Anya poked Xander. When he leaned towards her, she whispered, "When was the last time you saw Spike this mad?" Xander shrugged in response.

Marcus was still taunting Spike. "Were you not aware what the underworld says about you? From what I hear, the consensus is that you're nothing but a de-fanged, sissified, bottle-blond pouf." 

Marcus wasn't sure what he planned to achieve by provoking the vampire, but a small part of him enjoyed being able to throw the attitude back in the vampire's face. He straightened his spine and raised an eyebrow at Spike, his expression cocky. Only a foot separated the combatants, as they stood almost chest-to-chest, daring each other to make the first move. The air prickled with tension. 

"Ok, now, that's enough," Xander waved his hands at the two glowering figures, as if surrendering. _Still not putting my hand between them, _he thought. "As much as I would like to watch you two pummel each other, I didn't bring my popcorn. Not to mention you're frightening my fiancée." 

"Frightening me? You think they are..." Anya trailed off, too angry to continue. "They're just two boys in a sandbox fighting over a girl. And though normally that's amusing, the sandbox happens to be my store." She turned on Marcus and Spike, including both of them in her irritation. Startled, Spike gave Anya an blandly innocent expression. She didn't fall for it. 

"You two are making fools of yourselves," Anya continued, and turned on Xander. "And you are the worst! You think they could frighten me. Harrumph!" Anya paused to give each culprit one more glare and flounced off to the back room. 

  
Talking Drum 

  


Anya stormed into the room. "I think I got testosterone poisoning," she griped as she seated herself in an empty chair. Buffy glanced at Tara expectantly. The blonde witch raised her eyes to Giles, who sighed and nodded. 

Apparently satisfied, Tara began to speak. 

"The Hellmouth, the Slayer, and the Key are manifestations of metaphysical forces in the same way that atomic components such as the electron, proton and neutron are in the physical world. They are interactive, part of a greater whole, but also not the only forces in the universe." She paused to take a breath, unused to speaking without interruption amongst the Scoobies. 

"For example," she continued, "Scientists used to believe the atom couldn't be broken down into anything beyond the three sub-atomic particles. Now we know there are quarks, gluons, muons and plenty of other things. Witches have always known there's more than Einstein's four dimensions, but scientists are just now catching up with us. Essentially, the physical energies interact to maintain a balance and cohesion as the universe pulls itself in all directions in its continual expansion. What if the major forces represented by the Slayer, the Hellmouth and its progeny, and the Key, all interact in a similar albeit metaphysical way? And what if there are other smaller and larger forces that exert their own influence on the cosmic balance of our dimension?"

Tara paused, and realized Buffy was staring at her blankly.

"Wow. I feel smarter already," Anya said, impressed.

"Can I get that order in plain English?" Buffy asked. 

Tara nodded, and bit her lip before beginning again. "I stumbled across it by accident... after, uh, you... were gone," Tara said, softly. "After your..."

"You can say it, it's okay," Buffy replied gently. 

Tara nodded and gave Buffy a shy smile. "A month after your... death, Giles was preparing to return to England. Willow had withdrawn somewhat, since she..." Tara took a deep breath. "Anya was running the Magic Box. So I was the one to assist him in organizing and packing up his research materials. We were spending a great deal of time sorting through the ancient texts and Watchers' Diaries. Actually, Giles noticed it first," she added, looking at Giles. He looked up, surprised, and nodded vaguely, picking up the story from Tara. 

"I had continued to log the downsized patrols in my diaries, just out of habit," he said awkwardly. "Fact is, there really wasn't that much to record. A vamp here, a vamp there, but all generic and no other major demonic forces serious enough to cause any big problems. We had thought for certain that some larger evil would have rushed in to Sunnydale to take advantage of, of the... void." His breath caught, and he pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Tara took the hint and continued. 

"I, I had sensed a d-d-diminishment in the overall paraphysical energy of the town," she stated, rushing the last part of her sentence as she built up her nerve again. "I had concluded a long time ago that the Hellmouth generated a certain psychic energy that drew demonic forces to Sunnydale. That's - that's what I once thought brought me to town, back... wh-wh-when I believed I was part..." Willow reached out for Tara's hand and squeezed it in her own. Tara smiled at the handclasp, and swallowed hard. "Last year, the energy of the place continued to grow stronger as if building up to something ... big. But almost the instant you... died..." Tara exhaled. "I f-f-felt the energy dissipate... l-l-like the air suddenly escaping through a puncture in an enormous hot air balloon. The pull of the Hellmouth had ceased." 

  
Little One 

  


Marcus raised his eyebrows at the curtained doorway. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the others had similar reactions. He knew curtains don't slam, yet Marcus could have sworn that curtain just did. After a second of silence passed, Marcus exchanged a rueful look with Spike before turning the chair around backwards and straddling it. Spike took a step back and leaned against the table, watching Marcus while he shook out a cigarette. 

"That's quite the woman you've got there," Marcus said off-handedly to Xander, glancing again at the curtain still vibrating from Anya's enraged departure. 

"Don't I know it," Xander said, proudly, as he took a seat. 

"What did she mean?" Marcus asked nonchalantly. _I wonder how obvious I was around the Slayer._

"Haven't the foggiest," Spike mumbled as he lit the cigarette, not quite meeting Marcus' eyes. _I wonder if he can tell how I feel about her._

"Hm." Marcus knotted his fingers and rested his chin on them. 

"Yeah." Spike said. 

"Deep," Xander observed. He shrugged in response to two needling glares. 

"So what's your gig?" Spike pulled a chair over to face Marcus and perched on the back with his feet upon the scarred wooden seat, his long black leather coat billowing around his legs. "Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about, mate." He continued as Marcus opened his mouth to protest. "I saw the looks you two exchanged. Whatever was attacking you is going to get its sights on Buffy. And that isn't an option. So 'fess up. What do you want with her?" 

When Marcus didn't say anything, Spike leaned closer. "I know your power," he said in a menacing whisper. "But I can also smell your fear." 

Marcus' head came up, his eyes flashing. "And I, vampire," he retorted icily, "can smell your _lust._" 

They stared at each other for a long minute before the vampire shifted and looked away from him, apparently preoccupied with lighting a cigarette that was already lit. Marcus sighed to himself. He admired the vampire's honor and protectiveness, no matter what he'd claimed, and was reluctant to reward it with more lies. 

"I don't want anything from her," Marcus said bluntly. "I don't want to put anyone else in the middle of this. But I need answers about my father. And only Mr. Giles can help me." He added, admiration clear in his tone, "I realize I don't get his help without getting yours and Buffy's." 

"She doesn't need you, you know." Xander interjected. Spike and Marcus swiveled to look at him, as if suddenly remembering his presence. 

"What do you mean?" Marcus said, confused. 

"She's Buffy. She's complete. She... knows who she is and what she needs. And she doesn't need you." 

Marcus furrowed his brows, at a loss. 

Xander stood and paced a short while before answering. _But the guy's got to know the lay of the land,_ he reminded himself, _and no one else is jumping up to explain it._

"Look, from what I can see, you're in trouble," Xander began. "You come running into Sunnydale, searching for answers but you find us. More importantly, you find her. Buffy has always been the focus in a room, drawing people's attention like, well, like bugs to a bug-zapper. Okay, terrible analogy," he acknowledged. "But the principle remains. Everywhere she goes and everything she does, you can't do anything but try and help any way you can. I have seen a lot in this world, admittedly mostly thanks to Buffy, and I have never seen anything else like her." 

Xander paused and thought of a dark-haired Slayer... then shook his head to stay focused. "That is, until you walked through that door. You're like her. And you know it. We can't be apathetic to your danger, not because it affects us... but because we _want_ it to affect us. We don't know who or what you are but we want to help." Xander faced Marcus squarely, frowning slightly as he spoke. "You are drawing us in like Buffy did six years ago." 

Spike grunted his agreement, reluctantly admiring the clarity of Xander's speech. _The bloody fool may have his faults but ignoring his heart isn't one of them,_ he thought. 

Xander sighed. "But all this isn't as important as what you might do to her," he continued in a rush. "It's no secret we have our differences, but there are people in this room who love her. Okay, somebody's love might be a bit baser than others," Xander glared at Spike, "but we do love her. If you want our help, then you owe it to us to leave her out of whatever's going on. We might have no choice but to help you, but she should. She's been through enough. Do I make myself clear?" 

"Absolutely." Marcus calmly replied, impressed despite himself. _ This awkward young man is more valuable than I realized,_ he reflected, _if he's always this perceptive._

Xander quickly ran through his rant in his mind. "Uh, did I say if you mess her up, we'll kill you in horrible and imaginative ways?" 

"Nooo... but I got the gist." 

  
Talking Drum 

  


In the training room, Anya, Buffy, and Willow were listening intently. Buffy's mouth was open, and so was Willow's. One listened in fascination, the other in consternation that Tara hadn't told her at the time. 

Giles replaced his glasses and picked up the story from Tara. "I had a hunch," he said, "that prompted me to correlate my findings with the reports of past watchers. I enlisted Tara to help me. In short, between the two of us, we concluded that the Hellmouth was but one of a number of a family of demonic orifices distributed across the Earth, although Sunnydale's appeared to be the largest in geographic size and paranormal energy output. From the other Watchers' journals, read in conjunction with the more prophetic texts, it was clear that wherever there had been a major eruption of evil activity, there had also been a hellmouth." Giles sighed and leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands and his elbows on his knees before continuing. 

"Even more disturbing," he continued, "was our discovery that whenever one of these eruptions had occurred, a Slayer was subsequently dispatched to quell the disturbance. The demonic activity did not decrease, in fact, quite the opposite happened. In each instance, the Slayer's death corresponded with the sudden dormancy of activity, as if the balance in that area had been restored." 

Buffy's eyes were large as she glanced from Giles to Tara and back again. Her lips moved, but she didn't make a sound. 

Tara sighed sadly and continued. "I t-t-told Giles about my psychic... impressions. We concluded that the energy of the Hellmouth and the energy of the Slayer were symbiotic. The Slayer was drawn to the locus of the Hellmouth along with all manner of evil nasties like predator and prey animals to..." Tara's voice trailed off. 

"A big cosmic watering hole?" Anya offered helpfully. 

"As the Slayer vanquished each new monstrous foe," Tara said, nodding, "her own power grew as if nourished by the consumption of the demonic energies thus released. This only served to increase the magnetic pull of the Hellmouth to fill the void. A vicious cycle, but apparently a necessary one. The Hellmouth's power drew the demonic energy that when released from its corporal shell or other physical manifestation fed the Slayer's power that, in turn, amplified the Hellmouth. A perfect lightning rod ... a-a-a cosmic dance of good and evil, but very necessary. The Slayer-Hellmouth dance ensured that the evil could not spread across the globe, consequently preventing the other hellmouths from connecting and splitting the earthly mortal animal dimensions into fractions small enough to be overtaken by the forces of darkness." Tara exhaled again, shaking slightly. Willow put her arm around her lover, regret clear on her face. 

"Why didn't you tell me," she whispered. 

"I-I-I couldn't... you were..." Tara whispered back, tears suddenly forming in her eyes. 

Giles coughed quietly, and Buffy turned to look at him. With an understanding glance at Tara and Willow, he continued the explanation. "We were so caught up in our analysis of this new realization that we didn't stop to think about what effect the energy of the Key possibly exerted when thrown into the mix. Tara," and he nodded as she looked up at him, "intuited that the Key was a force radiating an energy quite different from that of the Slayer and the Hellmouth. It could draw both good and bad things in varying proportions depending on the state of the external environment and the stability of the physical form into which the key had been transformed." He stopped speaking, and Buffy swallowed hard, looking back at Tara. 

"But wouldn't..." Willow finally said in the silence. "Wouldn't this be moot since the Slayer was... gone?" 

Giles nodded. "Yes, and the Hellmouth was apparently dormant. So I returned to England..." 

Tara found her voice again, squeezing Willow's hand a second time. "B-b-but that was then, and now Buffy is back. The Hellmouth is showing signs that its dormancy is ending. Sunnydale is generating that strange magnetism again... only this time it's more intense and, and, somehow... more alien. The Slayer energy is changed somehow and that's impacting the balance... all of them together, Key, Slayer, and Hellmouth are the reason there's new and unfamiliar forces at play." Tara looked Buffy straight in the eyes. "And... that's why I think, no matter what we choose, Marcus will end up back in Sunnydale." 

"And that means..." Willow started to say. 

"So will whatever he's brought with him," Buffy concluded. 

  


**end of Part I - Dissolution  
** _[~ continue to next chapter ~][1]_

   [1]: 07-12.htm



	8. Beginning of Part II - Separation - Chap...

dark alchemy : part II - Separation : Chapter Seven

  
**

chapter seven

**

Solitude1056 

The group silently filed back into the shop. Twilight had fallen while they talked, and the sky through the shop's broad front window was tinged with indigo and purple. Buffy was about to speak when a small yelp came from the back of the group. 

Tara dashed forwards. "The kitty! I completely forgot about the kitty! Willow, did you -" 

"No, I thought -" 

"I didn't, oh no." Tara turned in distress to Buffy, who smiled at her. 

"You go check on Miss Kitty Fantastico - I think we'll be okay now," Buffy said. 

"I'll be back in a bit," Tara promised, and Willow shook her head. 

"No, honey, take your time." Willow glanced at Buffy, then back at Tara again. "Meet you at the Bronze in an hour?" Tara nodded, as Willow handed her a coat and kissed her quickly. 

Xander had pried the door open gingerly and was holding it wide for her. Tara dashed through the door while still trying to get the coat on, and the group could hear her footsteps echoing down the street in the early evening dusk. 

Xander closed the door carefully, checking his repairs. Buffy turned to Marcus. 

"Now I want some answers," she said. 

"Certainly," he replied. "But perhaps we could eat first? I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm famished. I'll treat." 

Buffy blinked, then surprised him with a smile. "Chinese?" 

It seemed to Willow that the rest of the group had disappeared for Marcus, as she watched him smile in response to Buffy's expression. Willow barely had time to register the moment and it was already past. Buffy was staring distrustfully again at Marcus, and he was again stone-faced. 

"Chinese is fine, if you like." His voice was perfectly level. 

"Oh, bloody hell," Spike suddenly said. "You're gonna make me eat with two sticks?"

Anya had commandeered the phone as a shopkeeper's right, and was glaring at nothing in particular while repeating the orders. "No, MOO SHOO PORK." She held the phone at arm's length as she hollered directly at it. Marcus noticed the rest of the crew was making every point of ignoring the fiasco, except for Xander, who was hovering in frustration behind Anya. Each time Xander made a grab for the phone, however, Anya would twist away from him with an impatient yelp. "I'm doing it, Xander!" 

Finally, Marcus couldn't take anymore of Anya hollering at some poor restaurant worker. He leaned over the counter to get Anya's attention, and held out his hand. "May I have it," he requested softly. "For just a second?" 

Anya glared at him, then glanced at the phone again and exhaled in obvious frustration. To Xander's astonishment, she slapped the phone across Marcus' palm, telling him, "People should not come to America unless they speak American. There should be a law about it." 

Marcus lifted the phone to his ear, his brows furrowed at her statement. He turned his attention to the poor guy on the other end of the line. "Wei, nin hao-ma?" he said, and then smiled. 

Willow turned to Buffy in excitement. "Do you hear that," she asked, her eyes large. "He's speaking Chinese. I've met someone who speaks Chinese!" 

Behind her, Marcus set the phone against his jaw long enough to ask Xander for the list of the orders. Xander handed it to him silently, completely at a loss. Marcus' voice, usually so deep, took on a strange intonation as he repeated the orders over the phone, affirming each with a nod and a word that sounded like "schure." Willow opened her eyes wider as she listened, fascinated. Even Anya found herself drifting closer to listen. 

Buffy shrugged, attempting to appear nonchalant. "So he watches old kung-fu movies. What's the big?" 

Willow rolled her eyes. "It's a foreign language... it's, it's _exotic._" Buffy shrugged and walked off to speak quietly with Giles. 

"Shì," Marcus said, and handed Xander back the list. He was obviously about to hang up when Willow stopped him. 

"We need chopsticks, too," she called out. 

Marcus nodded, saying into the phone, "Qing ni géi-wo men kuài-tze... hsièh-hsieh!" He smiled at Willow and hung up the phone. He noticed Anya standing close by, and included her in his suddenly shy smile. She scowled and turned her back on him. 

_Now I know what it sounds like,_ Willow thought happily, ignoring Anya. 

  
Marie 

  


It seemed that the group was content after all the recent excitement to leave him alone for the time being, or at least until after they'd eaten. _Thank goodness for small mercies_, he thought, as he continued to help them tidy up the mess the wind had caused. _Well, they're not all leaving me alone._ He hid a wry smile as Anya continued to mutter discontentedly in the background. __

_So_, he mused, _the shop girl is with Xander. Two witches: the redhead is Willow - and the blonde is Tara, and they're a couple. Giles must be Buffy's Watcher. And what about William the Bloody? Spike, she called him. Did the Slayer know how the vampire felt about her? _After a second thought, he shook his head, figuring the Slayer was probably well aware of most - if not all - of her crew's idiosyncrasies.

A knock at the shop door interrupted Marcus' thoughts. As he dug in his back pocket for his wallet, his stomach gave a loud rumble. 

"Hey, did you hear that? That sounded human, at least!" Xander whispered behind him. Marcus threw a grin over his shoulder at Willow as he went to pay for the dinner. Willow bit back a giggle. 

"I'm starved," Anya announced as Marcus set the three bags on the table. She immediately began ripping into each, setting food aside with a disgusted look on her face until she found her own order. 

"C'mon, guys, let's eat," Willow called to Buffy and Giles. "We need to leave soon or Tara'll be worrying." 

"It's okay, Will," Buffy replied, "we have some time yet." 

"Dunno why we couldn't just go to the Bronze and eat there," grumbled Spike, as he shoved back a chair and took a seat. 

"Listen, Fang Boy," Xander said as he snagged a helping of rice, "just occasionally we like to eat something other than flowered onions." 

"Sure thing, Carpenter. Just because you like to play with wood, doesn't mean you have to eat with it." 

"You've had over a hundred years to learn how to use chopsticks, Spike. Getting a little old? Fingers getting a little arthritic are they? Aww. Someone get the old guy a fork." 

  
Purplegrrl 

  


Holding up his chopsticks before taking another stab at his General Tso's chicken, Xander was overcome with a moment of goofiness. "Hey, it's a Dawn moment," he announced, and stuck the wooden implements under his upper lip. 

He tapped Willow on the shoulder to get her attention as Buffy laughed, recognizing the jibe. Willow looked over at her oldest friend, his hands forming claws as he mock-growled at her, and nearly choked on her Szechwan chicken. Drinking some water, she managed to swallow her food and grinned at Xander. 

"The time has come to speak of many things, of cabbages and of kings," quoted Willow. "Mister walrus," she added affectionately. 

  
Marie 

  


"Hey!" Anya stopped shoveling rice into her mouth long enough to be indignant. "Xander doesn't look like a walrus. He's very handsome. This meal isn't going on the shop accounts, is it? Because all this damage-" 

"No," Marcus interrupted. "It was my treat." He was amused to see Anya smile at him for the first time since he'd met her. 

Giles accepted the chopsticks Willow passed to him. "Anya," he said as he tore off the paper, "Remind me to look for the insurance forms in the morning, will you?" 

"Do you mind me asking, sir... Who actually owns this place? I thought..." Marcus glanced from Anya to Giles, puzzled. 

"I do," replied Giles, "although I sometimes wonder that, myself." 

"I take care of all the money," said Anya proudly. "I like money. A lot. Not as much as I like Xander. We're engaged. I have a ring. Look. It cost a lot of money." She looked at Xander. "It did, didn't it?" 

"Ah," Marcus replied with the appropriate amount of awe, only to see Anya smile at him a second time as she twiddled the ring with her thumb so it'd catch the light. He glanced across the table at the Slayer, who had remained silent throughout this exchange, observing Marcus as she ate.

Buffy raised an eyebrow at him, as if to say: _I know what you're thinking, but these are my friends, and I trust them, but you..? Let's wait and see, shall we. _

  
Humanitas 

  


Buffy had just finished the last of her dinner when the bell on the Magic Box door jangled wildly. The door was stuck as the person banged, then thrown open and Tara burst in. She was panting, out of breath, and her jeans jacket was torn at the shoulder. 

"V-v-v-vampires! At - the - Bronze -" She could barely get the words out between gasps. 

Willow was already across the shop and pulling Tara into her arms. "Shh, baby." 

Buffy stood up. "What about the vampires?" she prompted. 

"Buffy!" Willow snapped, "give her a minute!" 

"We might not have a minute." The Slayer's face was grim. 

Tara's breath was coming a bit easier now. "Buffy's right, honey. I went to the Bronze to wait for you - and there were a bunch of vampires there. I stopped counting at ten, there was a lot of screaming, and I-I ran." She touched the tear at her shoulder and smiled wryly. "Sorry about your jacket, sweetie." 

"I can fix that. Just as long as you're okay." Willow's voice trembled. 

Buffy was already moving. "Xander, Giles, Anya, come with me. Spike, stay here with Marcus." She turned back to the two witches, a stake in her hand. "Are you two up to coming along?" 

"I should take care of Tara," Willow replied, still worried as she touched the tear on the jacket. 

"I'm fine now," Tara said to Willow, then turned to Buffy. "We can help." 

"Showtime," Buffy announced as she grabbed her jacket. "Let's make with the slaying." 

"Hang on!" Spike's indignant voice stopped them in their tracks. 

"What?" Buffy exhaled in exasperation. "We don't have time for this." 

"Why do I have to be stuck with this git?" Spike did not like the thought of letting Buffy go into danger without him. "Why can't the carpenter do it?" 

"You can handle him." 

"I can handle him alright," Spike announced defensively, torn between jealousy and protectiveness. "But I do know he's got no love for vampires. Bloke bloody well nearly staked me last night!" 

"Thanks, I think," Marcus said. Taking quick stock of himself, he decided that the meal had refreshed him enough that he could keep going a little longer. _I could use a good fight, too,_ he decided. Aloud he said, "Do you have any extra weapons?" 

"Certainly. Catch!" Giles threw a stake to him - or rather at him - from behind, and hard. 

Marcus whirled and caught the stake inches from his forehead. 

"What was that all about?" Marcus lowered his arm, glaring at Giles. 

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry. I seem to have thrown that a bit harder than I meant to." Giles smiled vaguely as he handed out the rest of the weapons to the gang. _His reflexes rival Buffy's._ He was still pondering this as they all trooped out. _Now I really want to know what's in that letter._

The interior of the bronze was hushed. The tension radiating from the humans herded together on the dance floor was so thick that even the humans crinkled their noses at the smell. To Conover, standing on the edge of the stage among the amps and speakers, the scent was fresh baked bread and roasting turkey, full of the anticipation of a grand feast. He smiled at the memory, not so terribly old, of his family sitting down to Thanksgiving dinner. 

_ Now my new family is about to have a feast of our own,_ he thought grandly. Blood, laced with alcohol and adrenaline. _ Ah, this is what it's all about. No chasing, no waiting forever for them to go off alone._ Conover hadn't recognized the messenger who brought word that the Slayer wouldn't be patrolling tonight, but he had a policy of never looking a gift horse in the mouth. 

A scattering of human screams brought him back to the moment. Several of his crew had let their appetites get the better of them, and started eating already. 

He took another whiff of the fear in the room, and spoke into the microphone in front of him. "Take it easy, boys! Sorry, and girls," he added, seeing the dirty looks from the female vamps in his crew. "Anyway, we'll all get plenty to eat in a minute. I just want to say first, isn't this great? We've got all this food here," he smiled wide at the crowd, baring his teeth expansively, and savored the surge in the fear-scent. "And best of all, no Slayer!" 

"Remind me to invite you to my next poker game," a girl's voice suddenly said. 

Conover looked up to the catwalk running over the center of the room. The voice belonged to a compact blonde dressed in tight pants and a white sweater that hugged her curves nicely. His jaw dropped. _Aw, no. There's no way!_ He fought down a sharp dose of his own fear. _Doesn't matter. There's plenty of us, and only one of her._ He leapt to the floor and grabbed the nearest human, a tall young man with dark hair. Conover looked up at the girl, leering savagely. "Back off Slayer - or at least this one'll die." 

"You're just losing every hand tonight, aren't you?" whispered a deep voice in his ear. He looked at his hostage, and then at his hostage's hand. _Hey, how'd he get a sta.._ The thought, and the world, went dusty and ceased. 

Marcus exhaled sharply to clear the dust from his nose. He glanced around, saw the others move in and engage the vampires and took a second to watch Buffy dropping from the catwalk on top of a vampire, driving a stake into its chest as she fell. Then his attention was occupied by two vampires approaching him from either side as a third came down off the stage. He kicked one in the midsection and seized the wrist of the second as she aimed a brutal roundhouse at his head. Ducking under her arm, he pulled her into the path of the vampire coming from the stage, and staked the two of them in rapid succession as they tried to get untangled from one another. 

Marcus was caught by surprise as the remaining vampire grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms to his sides. He dropped all his weight toward the floor, then pushed back as hard as he could, bearing both of them to the floor. The impact caused the vampire to let go, and Marcus spun around on top of him, and drove his stake home. 

_Yes, he's quite remarkable,_ thought Giles as he watched young Marcus dispatch three vampires with extraordinary ease. Knowing that the others were able to defend themselves, he allowed himself to hang back and observe. Willow and Tara had snuck onto the dance floor along with Marcus while everybody was looking at Buffy. As the fighting started, they did their best to keep people calm and on the dance floor, away from the action. 

_They're doing quite well,_ Giles mused. _Tara's been a good influence on Willow. She's not panicking at all._ His thoughts were interrupted by Anya backpedaling into him, beset by a sandy-haired vampire. She was flailing away rather ineffectually with a small axe as she retreated and she stumbled badly when she bumped into Giles. The vampire batted the axe out of her hands and punched her squarely before grabbing her, fangs bared. 

Giles scooped up the axe, and swung hard as the vampire pulled back in preparation for the feed. 

"Ow," cried Anya as the vamp burst into dust. "That hurt!" 

"I'm sorry," Giles replied, confused, as he looked past Anya and was stunned to see Spike and Xander actually working in unison. When she shook her head, still holding onto her chin, he gave her a small smile. "Sit down, and I'll get you some ice." 

"All right, who wants a piece of old Spike?" The blonde vampire roared out his challenge. 

"I'll take that offer." The speaker was a huge vamp, nearly six feet tall, and he looked like he weighed almost three hundred pounds. He gave Spike a toothy grin. "I heard you were the Big Bad in this town." The grin turned into a smirk as he looked down at him. "Guess I heard wrong." 

"Oh, yeah, you're very funny," said Spike, and swung his axe at his opponent. "Sarky bugger. I'll show you big bad." The big vamp dodged the first swipe, and Spike started in on the back swing. Much to his surprise, his enemy was quick, for all his size, and sidestepped the second swing as well. The momentum unfortunately carried Spike within arm's reach, and he felt his feet leave the ground as the other vampire grabbed his arm, and pulled, sending him flying into the crowd. 

The crowd surged back from the flying mass of axe and bleached-blonde hair. Spike landed roughly on the edge of the dance floor, losing his grip on the axe. "Bleedin' hell." To make matters worse, when he looked up, there was Xander, looking amused. 

"Sorry, Spike, what was that? I had a hard time understanding you with your mouth full of floor." 

"Sod off, Harris. Did you see the size of that guy?" 

"Yeah. Notice how I snuck around behind him." He handed Spike the axe he'd dropped, and hefted one of his own. "What do say, you hit low and I hit high?" 

Spike took his axe, and grinned. "Why not?" 

The two turned and charged. 

Marcus had no chance to rise from his third kill as the surge of the crowd knocked him into the edge of the stage. He grunted at the impact in the small of his back, and thought grimly, _Whose idea was it to keep those people in here, anyway. Whatever happened to get 'em all out?_

Buffy rose up from the pile of ash left by the vampire unlucky enough to be directly underneath her. She glanced to her right and saw Spike and Xander working in tandem to take on a vampire the size of a professional wrestler. _Who'd've thought that would ever happen,_ she reflected, and promptly forgot them as she spun around to deflect a redheaded girl-vampire slamming into her. Buffy fell backwards, the vampire on top of her, and rolled to the side, pushing her assailant off. No sooner had she gotten free, the girl was back on top of her, snarling, and fighting for a hold of whatever she could grab. 

"Oh, great," Buffy quipped, "a hair-puller. How original." She hit the vampire on the chin, hard enough to make it let go of her hair. Buffy curled her legs up underneath her and pushed hard. The vampire flew a good six feet through the air, and slammed against one of the pillars holding up the loft. Buffy spoke, venting her aggravation as the vampire got up. 

"I hate hair-pullers. Do you have any idea what a good stylist costs?" The redhead's only response was a growl as she came running back, aiming a savage kick at Buffy's head. Buffy ducked, came up, and punched her opponent twice in the kidney. A responding elbow to the face rocked her back a step or two. Buffy put a hand to her lip - it came away bloody. 

"And plastic surgery is even pricier!" Buffy charged back at the vampire, exchanging blows with the vampire for several seconds, maneuvering her towards the pool tables. She delivered a heel kick straight to the vampire's solar plexus, sending her back into the rack of poll cues. Several of them snapped under the impact. The Slayer grabbed her victim by the shoulders, spun her around into the pool table, and picked up one of the broken pieces. 

"Pool cues, on the other hand, are a dime a dozen," she said as the vampire exploded into dust. 

Marcus had just squeezed out of the crowd and onto the stage as a vampire vaulted up from the floor onto the far end of the platform. As the creature charged, Marcus grabbed one of the mike stands and swung the heavy weight into the vamp's chin, knocking it onto its back. _Bollocks,_ he thought, _I've lost that stake. Guess I'll have to do this the hard way._

Marcus reached down for his last bit of energy and concentration, intoning a silent prayer to Mars. _Senta la mia preghiera, diami lo strumento,_ he breathed as he concentrated, _per distrugg il mio nemico._ Wielding his will into a sword, his chant - _**e faccia la guerra glorious!**_ - became an internal scream as he swung. The vampire's head came away from the neck with a look of tremendous surprise in the instant before it crumbled to dust. Marcus looked around for the next threat, and charged off the stage, leaping over a speaker onto the floor. 

Buffy turned around into a vampire's attack, blocking instinctively with her right arm, which still held the broken cue. She punched the vampire in the stomach with her left fist, and pulled back the cue, ready to stake. She thrust home. As her stake penetrated the vampire's heart, she was astonished to see the creature's head come off. 

The dust cleared, and Buffy and Marcus were left staring at each other. 

"Well, that was exciting," said Marcus as he slowly relaxed and let the energy dissipate with a silent thanks to Mars. "Does this sort of thing happen often around here?" 

"Hazard of life on the Hellmouth," Buffy replied. "You're not even breathing hard!" 

"Neither are you," he pointed out with a laugh. 

Buffy shook her head. "Forget about who... _what_ are you?" 

"I have a theory," said Giles as he approached, "but now is hardly the time." He took the broken pool cue from Buffy, and before Marcus could speak, a cry for help came from the middle of the dance floor. The trio pushed through the crowd to find Willow lying on the floor grasping her leg. Tara had her arms around the redhead, and was trying to comfort her. 

"What happened?" asked Xander as he ran up, a little out of breath. "Is she alright?" Anya joined him a second later, worry apparent on her face despite the fact that she was cradling her jaw with an ice cube against it, and clearly in pain. 

"It w-w-was my fault." Tara was almost in tears. "I l-lost my b-b-b-balance when the crowd all moved toward the stage. All my weight must have landed on her ankle. Oh honey, I'm so sorry." 

Willow looked into the blonde woman's face. "It's OK, it's not your fault. I can move it." She tried to put weight on it, and flinched. "Um, not so good with the walking, though." 

Buffy summed up the injury and smiled at Willow, relieved. "It's probably a sprain." 

"If the vamps are all dusty, can we head home?" Tara smiled at Buffy from where she knelt on the floor, trying to help Willow stand. "Could someone help me..." 

Buffy started to bend down, but Marcus was quicker. Before he slipped his hands under Willow, though, he looked quickly at Tara. She smiled nervously and nodded her silent permission. Trying to comfort them both, he smiled as he scooped the redheaded witch into his arms. "I've got you." 

Buffy took a quick look around, and nodded to them. "Let's go." As the group started to move, a thought occurred to her. "Spike, could you check in on Dawn for me? Just make sure she's okay." 

Spike doffed an invisible cap at Buffy in agreement, shooting a last baleful glance at the stranger's back. At the door he parted with them, heading in the direction of Buffy's house while the rest of them began a silent and worried trek to Tara and Willow's apartment. 

  


_[~ continue to next chapter ~][1]_

   [1]: 08-12.htm



	9. Chapter 8

dark alchemy : part II - Separation : Chapter Eight

  
**

chapter eight

**

Liquidram 

"Xander, it really hurts," Anya whispered in an aside, still looking a little dazed from the hit she'd taken. "I'd like to go home now." She glanced at Willow, and back at Xander. "You can... just head home when..." 

Xander met Buffy's eyes over Anya's head, his gaze flickering from Willow, in Marcus' arms, and back to Anya. Willow had heard, and turned her head to look at Xander and Anya, wriggling slightly in Marcus' arms to be able to look at them. 

"It's just a sprain," Willow told them both. "Some ice, and a little foot-raising action, and I'm fine." 

Xander smiled wryly. "Ice would be good on that chin, too." Anya smiled gratefully and reached out for Xander's hand. He turned to follow her but couldn't help glancing back at Willow. It crossed his mind that he'd rather see Spike holding Willow, if he couldn't do it himself. As he shook that disconcerting thought out of his head, Tara called softly to him. 

"We'll call you first thing in the morning, compare injuries." 

Xander smiled at Tara, putting his arm around Anya's shoulder as the two began walking towards his apartment. 

Marcus gently laid Willow on the bed and stepped aside. Tara watched, her face as pale as Willow's. Buffy put her arms around Tara's shoulders and tried to lead her aside so that Giles could check Willow's ankle. 

"Would you... allow me?" 

All three turned toward Marcus. Buffy frowned and shifted her weight to block his way. 

"I -" 

"Buffy," Willow interrupted, "It's okay." 

Buffy scowled at Marcus, but moved aside. She followed Tara outside to the patio, her eyes never leaving Marcus' until the door closed between them. 

Buffy and Tara were talking quietly when the door leading out to the patio opened. Marcus stepped out. 

"She wants to see you," he said quietly. Tara started to the door, but Marcus laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "She asked for Buffy," he added, looking at Tara with an understanding smile. 

"I won't be long, Tara," Buffy promised. "Marcus, wait for me in the living room." 

Tara interjected quietly. "It's okay, Buffy. He c-c-can stay out here with me." 

Buffy blinked, then shrugged. _ Spike and Xander fighting as a team. Giles rebuffing me. And now Tara standing up for Marcus. What a night._ Buffy left the two and went inside. She left the door open. 

Inside the small apartment, Buffy poked her head around the bedroom door. "Hey there, what's with the going all sprainy on us? How's the ankle?" 

Willow looked up from the bed and made a face at Buffy. "I have ice. I have Advil. I have a big, smooshy pillow. And Giles and Marcus say it's not too purple-y, so I probably didn't sprain it too bad."

Buffy sat gently on the edge of the bed. She took Willow's hand for a quick squeeze. "You really should be more careful, Will. We need you." Buffy looked fondly at her best friend, noting the raised foot and bag of ice. Changing gears, she turned. "Giles, could you join Tara? She's alone with that Marcus... and I don't know if I like that." 

Giles and Willow answered in unison: "She'll be fine." 

Buffy rolled her eyes. _ Score two for Giles and now Willow. Maybe he has them under a spell. If Spike starts speaking Chinese, I'm killing Marcus._

  
rowan 

  


The house on Revello Drive was dark and silent. Spike tried the front door. Locked. _Least Niblet shows **some** sense._ Spike grinned evilly. The pick slid into his hand easily from an interior pocket in his duster. _Prepared like a bloody Boy Scout._ The lock gave quickly. _Have to tell Harris to replace this with a better one._ Not all beasties were of the magickal persuasion. 

Spike headed to Dawn's room. She wasn't there. _So much for Niblet havin' sense._ The room smelled of girly things like cologne and makeup. He inhaled deeply. _Makeup?_

Spike spied a small, crumpled piece of brightly colored paper by the waste bin. Smoothing it open, he read it several times before it dawned on him. 

Stroking a hand over his rumpled hair, he grinned to himself. _Well, Spike, looks like you're goin' to a party!_

  
Liquidram 

  


More stars were becoming visible as the lights around Sunnydale flickered off. The two figures on the patio behind the garden apartment had not moved for several minutes. 

Tara's whisper broke the silence. "You're a Slayer," she said, as she closed the sliding glass door. 

"No." Marcus was silent a bit, his eyes focused on the stars just visible behind heavy clouds. Then he smiled, his expression wry. "I don't know what I am." 

Tara smiled in return, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she stood by the door. "I-I-I want to thank you... for helping Willow." 

Marcus nodded, still silent. Tara shifted, and ducked her head, sighing quietly a few times as she tried to work through her nervousness. Finally she spoke again, and her voice sounded louder in the early night air than she had expected. 

"I'll listen, if you wanted to..." Her voice trailed off. 

After a long pause, Marcus seemed to remember his whereabouts, and looked at her. His gaze was intense, but she swallowed hard and stared back into his large gray eyes. 

"I mean, I won't run in and tell them everything unless you tell me something really horrible and dangerous." She paused, looking away from Marcus suddenly. "I d-d-do tell Willow everything, but she..." 

Marcus grinned unexpectedly. "I understand." 

Tara smiled in return, a winsome expression that caught Marcus off-guard. _And here I thought,_ he marveled, _ I had it figured out who's powerful. This whole group is nothing but surprises._ Tara sat down on the patio's cool cement and patted the ground for Marcus to join her. After a pause, he did so, tucking his legs under him to sit cross-legged beside her. His face was turned towards the sky. 

"Why..." Tara stumbled over the words, then ducked her head nervously and tried again. "Why don't you start at the beginning?" 

"The beginning, eh?" Marcus smiled sweetly at her. "In that case, my parents divorced when I was still very young..." Marcus paused, as if seeing something in the sky that demanded his attention. 

"Marcus, that's not the beginning I meant," Tara interjected boldly. 

He cocked his head at her, staring into her clear blue eyes. "No?" 

Tara smiled wanly and shook her head, then glanced over her shoulder at the door. "Do you want to talk, or wait for Buffy to get back? She's n-n-not always the most patient person," she added conspiratorially. 

He smiled at nothing in particular. "Where shall I begin, then?" he asked. 

Tara flushed, unable to tell if he was teasing or serious, but the streetlights on his profile made his face look gentle and... she paused, groping for the right word. _Noble,_ she decided. "Who was attacking you?" she whispered. 

There was an even longer pause as Marcus chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip, his chin still tipped upwards. His brows were lowered, and Tara fiddled with the hem of her skirt while she waited quietly. 

"My cousin." 

"Oh." Tara nodded, then started as the phrase sank in. Glancing up to see Marcus watching her, she tried to wipe the surprise off her face. "_Oh._" 

Marcus' lips twisted, and he went back to watching the skyline. "I've little interest in their plans, and they aren't happy about it. They're fairly powerful sorcerers. After my father died..." 

"I'm sorry." Tara interrupted again. 

Marcus nodded, and studied the parking lot. His eyes were narrowed. _He's keeping watch,_ she realized.

"For so long..." he swallowed, and instinctively Tara reached out her hand and placed it over his. He didn't seem to notice as he continued. "There were certain kinds of people that would make my stomach churn until I was a good deal away from them... I was so naïve. I didn't believe vampires existed until I had to learn to stake them. They could sense what I was before I knew the truth myself." 

He was distantly aware that Tara's hand was gripping his tighter, and he swallowed hard. "When my father died," he whispered, "he left me his correspondence, and all his diaries... but I can't read any of them because -" 

He stopped speaking and glared at Tara; her grip on his hand was almost painful, it was so tight. His body stiffened, and his shoulders hunched, prepared to pull back. Tara flinched as she felt his anger and distrust not just of her, but of the situation he was faced with. She saw physical pain, but what moved her most was the emotional torment he was facing. _He's more frightened,_ she realized,_ of revealing himself to me than he is of whatever's chasing him._ Images were flashing through her head, and she knew they weren't from inside her. As her eyes grew wide, Marcus' mind slammed shut. Tara started, the intense reaction as real as though he'd actually slapped her. 

"What do you _really_ want?" he bit out at her as he threw off her hand. The sorrow that had momentarily escaped was replaced by bitterness fueled by rage, which he did not attempt to mask. He was on his feet instantly with a feline grace, his breathing fast, his pupils dilated. In the strange light from the streetlamps, his eyes were obsidian.

"I'm s-sorry, you were so sad, I just w-wanted to..." Tara shrank back from him, her stuttering returning at his angry tone.

Marcus started to speak, fury still coursing through his body, then abruptly turned his head away. She looked behind her to see Giles opening the door, and clumsily clambered to her feet, visibly pale as she ran past Giles into the apartment without looking back. Giles watched her, then studied the expressions playing across Marcus' suddenly vulnerable face. 

_ It's time I had another chat with him,_ Giles decided. 

  
Methodica 

  


The steady bass beat could be heard outside the warehouse. Reluctantly Dawn trudged towards the entrance. Lisa, beside her, nudged her as they approached Kirstie standing outside with a group of friends. 

"Oh, great," Dawn breathed, and Lisa gave her a sideways grin.

"Hey, Dawnie," called Kirstie. "Isn't it past your bed time? Won't your big sis find out?" 

"She's out, too," Dawn retorted. "She's patrollll... umm, she's working tonight." 

"Really? What corner?" Kirstie replied, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulders. 

Lisa rolled her eyes and Dawn giggled at her friend's reaction. 

"So, what's with the cute-girly look?" Kirstie taunted. "Don't you have any grown-up clothes?" 

Dawn gritted her teeth and ignored the comments. They had arrived late to the rave, and there was hardly a line. Quickly the girls were patted down, their tickets taken, and they walked through the open warehouse doors. The building was hot, damp and smoky, with bodies everywhere dancing franticly to the beat being dished out by the DJs. Raves were a rare thing in Sunnydale, since it was such a small town, but tonight was an exception. It was Dawn's first time at an event like this. Now she was beginning to ask herself why she was here in the first place. 

_I just want a break, do something fun,_ she thought to herself, and sighed. _Buffy goes to the Bronze, I should get a break, too. I need one. How could they really know what my life is like? To see the things I've seen, to know the things I know? I bet Kirstie would wet herself at the sight of a Ghora demon,_ she thought smugly, giggling at the visual of the school princess actually peeing her pants. 

Several of their other friends were already there, and had saved them a spot on a couch facing the dance floor. They surveyed the sea of bodies as Dawn took the chance to get used to the loud music. She started to relax, and was amused to see some of the kids dance with glow sticks. It was almost hypnotic. 

Lisa and the other girls soon got the courage to head to the dance floor. Despite her dance classes, Dawn was still convinced she had no rhythm, and wasn't going to make a total fool of herself. Instead, she stayed on the couch and continually asked herself why she was here. _What's Buffy was going to do when she finds out about this?_ Finally satisfied that this was one of the dumbest things she'd done lately, she decided to head home and see if she could get back before Buffy was done patrolling. _Then she won't find out._

Pushing through the bodies, Dawn tried to find the exit. The beat emanating around the warehouse was starting to pound in her head. Grimacing, she knew needed to get out of the place. After several grueling minutes, she saw the front entrance to the warehouse. Pushing past the last few bodies, only a few feet from the door, she halted suddenly as she felt eyes on her. She turned slowly and scanned the crowd, hoping it wasn't something she'd have to tell Buffy about later. 

Down on the floor, a boy about her age was staring right up at her. He was sitting by himself, his knees to his chest, and staring straight at her, eyes fixed directly on hers. Dawn was starting to say something when darkness surrounded her and she collapsed to the floor, unconscious. 

Simon had done his share of warehouse raves, and was curious to see what a small town like this considered a rave, though he reminded himself that he should be finding a place to sleep for the night. The warehouse was on the far end of Sunnydale, and it hadn't been a short walk. There were kids his age outside the building talking and laughing with each other. Hiding in the shadows, Simon snuck past two bouncers and went through the large entrance to the warehouse. The beat was intense as he entered into the main area. 

_This is crazy,_ he told himself for the fourth time. _I'm not going to find out anything here... and I'll probably just end up bored from hearing last year's remixes._

He surveyed the entire place, including the perimeter of the dance area. Finally, the smoke and the noise, together with his exhaustion, made him decide to sit down for a bit. His back against the wall, he pulled his knees to his chest and rested his chin on his knees and started to drift away. 

_Jessie would've loved this,_ he thought. Wired, spunky, sexy Jessie. She'd been his first girlfriend. Not his first love, she'd been too hyper for that. She'd shown him things he blushed to think about now. _Wonder what color her hair is now,_ he mused. He was lost in memories when the music stopped. Looking around, he realized everyone was frozen in place. Not far away stood a girl, staring directly at him, her long brown hair pouring over her shoulders. It was the same girl he'd seen this morning, whom he'd asked for directions to the library. The light dancing around her grew brighter until it was blinding him. An emotionless voice spoke inside his mind. 

_Why are you here?_ It echoed in his head. 

"I hhhhave to find her," Simon stuttered, fearful. Silence shrouded him again, and he shifted uneasily on the floor. 

_They'll use you, manipulate you for their needs,_ the voice said. It seemed to Simon that the voice had a touch of concern in it this time. 

"Who is using me? Who are you?" pleaded Simon. He looked around, and realized the music was still playing, and people were dancing as if nothing happened. Simon got up, worried as he realized the girl was lying unconscious in the doorway. Before he could reach her, a bleach-blond appeared out of nowhere, shoving dancers out of his way. The man leaned over, picked the girl up gently, and rapidly moved through the doors without looking to either side. 

Simon was frozen to his spot, his mind racing to make sense of what he'd seen. _I want to go home_, he thought. _No matter where that is._

  
Solitude1056 

  


Giles coughed politely. He noticed Marcus was swaying slightly, but before Giles could react, the young man opened his eyes and placed a hand against the wall, turning to face Giles. 

"Sir," Marcus began, haltingly. "I have to leave." 

Giles was startled. "Ah, I'm afraid that's not a choice," he said as he removed his glasses slowly. Pulling out a handkerchief to wipe them, he continued, "Buffy has made it clear, and I agree with her, that-" 

"Every minute I stay, I put everyone here in danger." Marcus' voice was flat. 

"I see." Giles replaced the glasses and looked at Marcus again. The young man's jaw was set in an obstinate line, and Giles sighed. "However, I think you underestimate the -" 

"No, I think you have underestimated that which attacked us." Marcus' voice echoed on the patio. "And I can't rely on the witches to assist me a second time when one of them is injured." 

"Where do you plan to go," Giles finally replied, his voice pitched so low it was merely a breath. 

"Anywhere that a great many people have moved in and out recently." Marcus' voice turned sardonic in the darkness. "I believe Americans call it a hotel." 

Giles smiled despite himself, and nodded. "Ah, but..." 

Marcus caught his meaning before he completed the sentence, and nodded, his hands reaching up to his neck. "Mr. Giles, if I may have your handkerchief?" Surprised, Giles nodded, and handed it to the young man. Marcus took it, and slipped something from around his neck. 

"Sir, this was my mother's. I recommend you don't touch it directly, since I'm the only one who can do so without harm." He wrapped the pendant and its cord in the handkerchief tenderly, and handed the small bundle back to Giles. "It's..." Marcus' voice broke suddenly, and he exhaled hard before he could finish. "Between this, and what remains at your shop... You may consider these my collateral that I will return in the morning." 

Giles held the handkerchief gingerly in both hands, already feeling the warmth of a protection spell beginning to numb his fingers. "I understand, but I don't believe that..." his voice trailed off, and he glanced to the window where Buffy was inside, speaking with Tara. 

Marcus looked as well, and nodded. "It's a good thing they live on the first floor, eh?" he asked, laughing quietly. "Or I'd look like a bloody fool trying to jump off a third-floor balcony." 

Before Giles had finished chuckling, the young man was gone. 

  
Purplegrrl 

  


Suddenly anxious to read the letter Marcus had given him, Giles decided to stay for a moment on the patio. He took the cream-colored packet from his shirt pocket, turned it over, and rubbed a finger across his name on the envelope. After a moment, he tore open the seal. 

Removing the letter, Giles unfolded the single sheet and began to read: 

_

> Rupert, 
> 
> My old friend. As I write this, I don't know what the future holds. My own world is greatly changed since our days at university.
> 
> If you are reading this, no doubt you have met my son, Marcus. He is a good boy, and should not be held responsible for what has happened to him. To tell you more at this time would risk too much. All I ask is that you give him aid and succor. Know that answers, although perhaps not all, lie in my diaries. You will know how to read what is in them. 
> 
> I remain,  
Charles Siefer

_

Giles smiled faintly to himself. _Always with the over-wrought language,_ he thought, _when a simple 'please help my son' would have been sufficient._ Re-reading the letter, Giles satisfied himself that it contained no hidden message. It was just what it appeared to be: a plea for help from beyond the grave. Ignoring the moisture that had welled up in them, he removed his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes.

  
bess 

  


There was a hand in Dawn's. Cold, almost as cold as the ground on which she was lying. Somewhere close by, there was a distinct bump-bump-bump that Dawn realized meant they hadn't gone far from the warehouse rave. She lay with her eyes squeezed shut for a while, not daring to open them yet. He would understand. But he'd still tell Buffy. 

"I know you're awake, Little Bit." he said, softly. She blinked twice, grateful for the darkness that saved her aching head from any new pain. He looked at her, and did not release her hand. "You're lucky there aren't any bouncers in Sunnydale man enough to turn me away." 

"I know," she retorted hotly, and wrenched her hand out of his grasp. "Go ahead. I'm ready. Dawn screwed up." Buffy's self-righteous chiding rang out in her head. 

Spike sat on his heels and raised an eyebrow at her. Then he smiled. 

"You think I'm going to lecture you. You think," he sat back and gestured at the alleyway, "that Spike's going to sit you down and give you a good old-fashioned talking-to. That I'm going to warn you about things that go bump in the night." He brought his face close to hers and grinned. "Boo." 

Dawn giggled. "I knew it. You're not like everyone else..." 

"Very perceptive of you..." he coughed. 

"That's not what I meant and you know it. It's how you treat me." 

"Yes... well, how you treat someone's... very important." Spike cleared his throat. "You're not an idiot, Niblet, and you're not a puppy either. It's not my place to tell you sit and stay and mind you don't touch the hotplate." _I've got lecturing of my own,_ _coming from just sideways of a frontal lobe._ "But what I will say is this. You've got people who'd bloody well die to protect you, girl. One of them did. And it'd make them, especially her, absolutely sick if anything happened to you while you were out with friends. Anyway," he said casually, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "bloody stupid way to go, Niblet. Unconscious, droolin' all over yourself..." 

"I never drool!" 

"Far be it from me to spread tales, but I saw you -" 

"I never drool! Besides... it isn't what you think. I brought my own water bottle, and I didn't touch any of that stuff." He shot her a look but read only honesty in her face. "Please," she sighed, exasperated. "Like I'd be that dumb." 

"I believe you, pet. So, you just get tired? You allergic to techno?" 

She squinted, trying to remember just what it was that she'd seen before the world went dark... "There was this boy..." she murmured, and Spike growled deep in his throat. She giggled again. _When I start dating, I'm going to have to tell him from the other side of a fence._ "Jump to conclusions much? I just saw this boy from across the room... didn't even talk to him, we just looked at each other, and - I don't remember anything after that." she bit her lip. "Spike... I think... he was looking for me. Or someone like me." 

"Don't get what you mean." 

"It was like he recognized something in my face... do I look like Buffy?" 

Her question hit Spike like cold water, and he rocked on his heels for a moment. 

"I... guess. Around the face. There, soft at that edge, straight here. Big eyes. Yes. Maybe." He smiled at her. "You glow from the inside, just like your sister." 

"Thank you." 

"So..." Spike cleared up the pictures already swirling in his mind, pictures of another girl smiling, but not at him. "You think this kid, whoever he was, might be looking for Buffy?" 

"Not sure why, but... yeah." 

Spike nodded, thinking about it, before he stood up again and offered her his arm. 

"I'll walk you home, young lady. We have some talking to do with big sis." 

"Spike..." Dawn groaned. 

"Save it, Bit." His white teeth flashed at her in the half-dark of the warehouse district alley, and she grinned back. "Let's go." 

  
rowan 

  


"Honey?" Tara lightly tapped on the door to their bedroom and then poked her head in. "Can I come in now?" 

Willow nodded. She was sitting up in bed, the bag of ice still balanced on her ankle. Buffy stood up and moved away from the bed so that Tara could take her place, trying to give them a little privacy. 

Tara gently stroked her hand across Willow's forehead, stopping to trace the arch of one delicate eyebrow with her fingertips. "I was so worried." 

Willow smiled reassuringly. "No worries." Tara looked doubtful. Willow spoke more earnestly. "Seriously, I promise. I'm strong." She raised her arm and curled it, pointing to her bicep. "Like Samson." She put her arm down and frowned. "Pre-Delilah Samson." She frowned more deeply. "Only not so hairy. Or testosterone-y." 

Tara giggled, leaned forward, and kissed the frown away. "Good." Her tone turned serious. "I'm really sorry I fell-" 

Giles stepped into the bedroom, interrupting Tara. "Marcus has left." 

They all stared at him. Buffy shook her head in frustration. "Wait a minute. Missed something here. When did that become our plan?" 

Giles sighed. "Well, Buffy, short of trussing him up on a chair, I couldn't very well compel him to stay." 

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "And that idea was bad because...?" 

Dryly, Giles responded, "We tried that with Spike and we have been unable to rid ourselves of him since." Buffy dropped her eyes. Giles continued amiably, "Marcus gave me his word that he'd be back tomorrow." 

Willow and Tara exchanged glances. Buffy laughed shortly. "He gave you his word? And we're trusting him now?" 

Mildly, Giles responded, "I'm not a complete fool, Buffy." She flushed slightly, and Giles continued, "Marcus offered sureties for his return. His father's papers... and this." He held out the pendant, safely nestled in the handkerchief. 

"What is it?" Tara asked. Giles moved closer to the bed so that they could all see it more clearly. 

"It appears to be some type of talisman enchanted with a fairly powerful protection spell. Marcus said his mother gave it to him." 

"Protection from what's chasing him?" Willow questioned. 

Giles shrugged. "Possibly. Or perhaps from more non-specific dangers." 

Buffy's voice was even. "So what happens when he takes it off?" 

Everyone was silent. 

  


_[~ continue to next chapter ~][1]_

   [1]: 09-12.htm



	10. Chapter 9

dark alchemy : part II - Separation : Chapter Nine

  
**

chapter nine

**

Solitude1056 

Marcus had been walking for about a half-hour when he began to stumble. He was tired, physically and mentally. Cursing himself, he forced his head upright and continued criss-crossing the town's streets. He still had his wallet, he could check into a hotel... _if I could just find one,_ he muttered silently. But he knew he'd been leaving clear traces since the afternoon, and hadn't made an effort to deviate while carrying the witch back to her apartment. 

_I should've found a reason not to carry her, I should've slipped away from them,_ he argued with himself. At the same time, he knew full well that the two witches might be his one good chance at fighting off his cousins. His feet kept moving, automatically, and he studied the dark sidewalk as it flashed by under his long strides. His mind narrowed and focused into a single beam of intensity. _Five more steps,_ it chanted, _five more steps._ And at the fifth pace, he started over. 

_Five more steps._

He'd passed darkened houses, a graveyard, and a corner gas station. Cheering up at the prospect of something to drink, he turned into the parking lot, only to see the interior lights click off as he approached. Disgusted at his timing, he picked up his pace, randomly turning corners without care as to his direction. _If I'm lost, so be it,_ he told himself. _It won't be the first time I've gotten lost in an unfamiliar city, but at least this time I speak the language._

Dully he considered that he didn't, really. The Slayer's friends not only had a cadence in their speaking that was unfamiliar, they were open and upfront with him. "And all I've been able to do is tell them lies in return," he suddenly said aloud. Startled at the noise in the silent streets, he glanced around. No movement except his own feet, flashing in and out of the bottom of his vision. More importantly, he couldn't feel anything, either. _Maybe they're still nursing their wounds,_ he reassured himself. _Or better, maybe they've given up and gone home._ He doubted it, but it was a pleasant thought. 

_Five more steps... five more steps._

Finally, Marcus turned a corner where he thought recognized the street sign. Another couple of steps, and his nostrils flared. An ominous silence seemed to fill the street, and slowly Marcus came to a halt. His eyes narrowed against the streetlights, he turned in a full circle. A soft keening sound whispered in his ears and he nearly moaned out loud. Turning around again, he listened, trying to get his bearings. 

  
Rowan 

  
Unconsciously, his hand went to his throat, reaching for his pendant. It wasn't there. Barely thinking, Marcus took a deep breath and picked up his pace. 

  
Liquidram 

  
After several more minutes at the faster pace, Marcus' breathing had shortened to rasping gasps. _Please, let me be there._ There was still a chance that the residual protection around the Magic Box would be strong enough to keep him safe for the night. He knew he lacked the strength to enhance the spell. _Please._ Vaguely he registered the small sign on the back door as he stumbled past the dumpster. His lungs burned. He leaned against the door, his fingers curled into fists. _If the spell still holds, I'll know..._

"Why run?" The voice was soft, and echoed hollowly in the alleyway. 

Marcus whirled around to face the alley. The air crackled. _Giving the pendant to Mr. Giles was suicide,_ he rebuked himself. _There's nothing anyone could do for me now. I don't have the strength to fight._

"Ari," Marcus choked out. "Show yourself and let's get this done." Marcus' voice was barely audible. He laughed silently, a bitter sound echoing in his head. Once, the bond between he and Aeralyus had been strong despite the fact that Marcus and Talia could barely tolerate each other. Their differences in opinion and goals had driven them apart. _And look where we are now,_ he observed distantly. 

"My dearest cousin," Aeralyus responded tolerantly as he stepped around the corner, "our last conversation was truly disastrous." 

Marcus shook his head, his hand on the door to steady himself. "Why talk to me?" Marcus coughed again, his chest flexing in pain. "You consider me an abomination." 

Aeralyus shrugged. "I have my reasons. Although," he reflected, amused, "it was entertaining to see Talia so infuriated." 

Marcus scowled and closed his eyes, trying desperately to conceal the agony in his lungs and legs. When Marcus opened his eyes again, he was staring directly into his cousin's clear blue eyes. Marcus gritted his teeth. 

"Marcus," his cousin chided him gently. "I am quite shocked at your behavior, thinking you can elude us. You're alive only because I convinced Talia that you'll have a change of heart once you've fully realized your potential." Aeralyus placed his hand on Marcus' shoulder, a comforting gesture. "You belong with us. We're family." 

Marcus leaned back, unable to muster the energy to jerk out away from his cousin's touch. Aeralyus continued as if they were having a conversation over tea, just as they used to when Marcus was younger. "You're lucky I found you before Talia did. Personally, I believe in giving you another chance to come to your senses." 

Marcus laughed, and the effort set him to coughing. The older man waited patiently until Marcus was able to speak. 

"So why with the sideshow and howling?" Marcus asked. He was annoyed, and that was overcoming his fear. "You could have hurt a great many people this afternoon. If you didn't intend to kill me right out, then what's the deal?" Marcus glanced past his cousin. "And where's the Claw Queen?" 

Aeralyus chuckled. "You idiot. The sideshow, as you so delicately put it, was for Talia's benefit. If she knew I'd found you and not told her, she'd first kill you, and then make me miserable for more than a lifetime." Aeralyus chuckled again, quieter. "Given the option, death might be preferred... I sent her to Father, and she's still nursing the bruises from the combined effort of your shove and his welcome. Your defense, on its own, was impressive but hardly sufficient. There is not much time before she realizes where we are, and when she does, you cannot be here. I won't be able to stop her." 

"So?" Marcus retorted, a guttural sound. His tongue felt thick in his mouth. "I want to live my life, and be left alone. Why can't you get it through your thick skull that I don't want any part of your schemes!" 

  
Rowan 

  


As if in response to Buffy's question, the pendant in Giles's hand began to emit a blue light that steadily grew in intensity. 

Buffy said, "Uh oh." 

The pendant, as if drawn up by an invisible hand, began to rise from the handkerchief, until it was suspended in front of them. It began a slow counterclockwise spin. Blue light began to streak the walls, ceiling, and floor of the room. Giles stared at the empty handkerchief, then pulled off his glasses and used the linen to wipe them quickly. 

"Please tell me I'm not the only one seeing that," Buffy said softly. 

Willow shrugged helplessly. "I'm seeing glowy, floaty, and spinny." 

"Extraordinary!" Giles exclaimed as he replaced his glasses, peering closely at the pendant. 

Nervously, Buffy asked, "Any ideas, Will?" 

"Um... I think it's warning us." 

Tara's movement drew their attention. She stood up and walked slowly towards the spinning pendant. "No," she said calmly. "It's warning _him._" 

Giles frowned. "Tara, I'm afraid I'm not really certain..." 

"I am." She turned to Willow and put out her hand. "Help me." 

Willow climbed out of bed and took Tara's hand. "Make a circle," Willow told Buffy and Giles. Forming a circle around the spinning pendant, all four linked hands, a current of electricity running under their skins. 

The pendant began circling faster. Tara's face was illuminated with a pure blue light. She stared into it, her eyes wide and unblinking. 

"Marcus," Tara whispered. 

A thin tendril of blue light shot out from the pendant. 

"Marcus." The witch's voice was as clear in his ears as though she was standing beside him. 

_God, please no. Not now._ Feebly, he pushed the witch out of his head. He could feel her: probing, sensing, touching. 

  
Liquidram 

  
Aeralyus paused, glancing around the empty alley suspiciously, but the only sound was Marcus' shallow breaths. When Aeralyus looked at his cousin again, he was no longer smiling. "Family may not mean anything to my sister, but it does to me. If you're smart, you'll heed my words." 

"Ari," Marcus managed to spit. The witch was pouring into every crevice, consuming his awareness, and angrily he shoved her away. "Ari," Marcus said again, gathering his last ounce of self-control. "Go to hell." 

  
rowan 

  


There was a long pause, and then Tara blinked suddenly, and took a deep breath. 

"I've found him," she said, and the rest of the group exchanged curious glances. There was another long pause while Tara seemed to listen intently. She frowned and glanced at Willow. "Let's do it." Willow, catching the hint, nodded, and returned her gaze to the pendant. 

When Tara spoke again, her voice was unwavering. "I am the Ancient of Names," Tara whispered, her words hanging in the air after she spoke. "She who is called Aradia, Hecate, Astarte." 

Willow's voice joined Tara's. "I am the White Lady of deep mysteries, ancient and powerful." The ray of light from the pendant grew stronger, more powerful. Giles and Buffy remained motionless, watching and waiting. For a second there, Willow thought she heard another voice joining theirs. 

  
Liquidram 

  


For a moment, there was complete silence. Distantly, Marcus heard his cousin laugh, a cruel sound. Before Marcus could react, a stab of molten hot agony pierced his chest, and he sank to his knees, screaming. Two jagged ridges had appeared down the front of his shirt. As his blood welled up and spilled down the front of his shirt, he reached for his pendant. Blood seeped through his shirt, down his thighs and stained his hands. Gasping, he clutched at his chest, the fire and pain mingling in his numbed brain. 

  
rowan 

  
Inside his head, the witches' voices filled him. His strength gone, he helplessly began to echo the words of the incantation. "I am the green Earth. I am the white Moon. I am the dark Night," he whispered.

_But what are you doing? _ Marcus silently begged the witches, helpless against the intrusion. 

  
Solitude1056 

  
"It's no use trying to magick me out of here," Aeralyus responded with contempt. "You know I'm telling you the truth. You won't live much longer, incomplete. Take the last step." Aeralyus sighed and flexed his hand again. "You're stubborn, cousin. Don't prove yourself a fool, too." Aeralyus raised a fist, and Marcus instinctively put up his arms to block his cousin's assault -

  
rowan 

  


"I am the Protector. I am the Guardian." Tara squeezed Willow's hand. Willow nodded. 

Giles began to breath harshly. Buffy felt as if something were being pulled out of her. Three voices, blended together, now spoke. The room was spinning, and the witches could hear an anguished howl. Startled, Tara and Willow exchanged a glance, and then Tara swallowed hard, her eyes wide. 

"I am kith and kin to Earth, Air, Fire, Water, and Spirit. That which is not of me, _must flee me!_" 

A burst of blue energy flashed outward from the pendant. Buffy and Giles flinched, but held the circle. The pendant, now dark, fell to the floor. 

  
rowan 

  


_"That which is not of me, must flee me!"_ Marcus roared the final line of the incantation as his cousin's talons darted under Marcus' raised hands and ripped through his chest a second time. There was a flash of darkness, and he closed his eyes, screaming as he sank to the ground. 

Marcus clutched his chest where two more gashes had appeared. Blood filled his vision. He retched as spasms wracked his body. Slowly, bitterly, he sobbed, his body curling across the back steps of the Magic Box. 

Slowly, the four released their hands. Tara was swaying slightly on her feet, her face pale. "We got it," Tara said, then frowned. "I didn't see what _it_ was b-b-but I heard howling." Willow nodded, biting her lip in worry.

"Werewolf?" Buffy asked sharply. 

"No, worse." Tara's shaky voice cut her off. "Something that feeds on pain." Willow put an arm around Tara to steady her, ignoring the sharp ache in her ankle as she put weight on it. Tara focused the last of her energy on Buffy and Giles. "I saw blood, and pain, terrible pain... Marcus is behind the Magic Box. Hurry." 

Buffy reached for the pendant right as Giles put out his arm. "Don't touch it," he warned. "It's only safe for Marcus." Giles shook his handkerchief open and scooped up the pendant before dashing out the door after Buffy. 

"Hurry,_ please,_" Willow called after them. With her command echoing in their ears, both ran. 

Giles drove the convertible straight down the alley, striking the assorted refuse that lined it. He stopped on a dime, barely avoiding the fast-approaching wall. Marcus was huddled in the doorway, shivering, clutching his chest. He looked up, his eyes wide and vulnerable. Buffy leapt out of the car and swung the car door open wide. 

"Get in," she whispered harshly. Buffy looked around uneasily, slipping the pendant out of her pocket and gingerly tugged the cord over his neck. Marcus shuddered as the pendant thumped once against his chest and Buffy jumped back, startled. 

"Get in the bloody car. Now." Giles's voice was low, but full of menace. Buffy steeled herself and reached down, lifting Marcus. He was bent over, but he managed to struggle the few feet before collapsing into the tiny back seat. 

Giles put the car in reverse and backed out of the alley, tires screaming. _Lucky for me,_ he thought, _the coppers are on their requisite doughnut breaks._ Giles smiled grimly and continued to drive as if chased by the hounds of hell. 

"Anybody following?" he asked Buffy quietly. 

She shrugged noncommittally. "Dunno. Don't think so." 

"He's gone, for now." Marcus' voice was reed-thin. 

Buffy and Giles exchanged a look. 

Giles pulled into the parking lot at his old apartment. Marcus was unable to move without help; Buffy and Giles half-carried, half-dragged him into the apartment. Buffy lowered Marcus onto a dust-covered sofa as Giles snapped on a nearby light. Buffy sucked in her breath. There was a splattering of blood on the sheet - and a lot more on Marcus' shirt. 

"You're hurt," she snapped. "Why didn't you say anything in the car?" 

"I wasn't bleeding if I wasn't moving," Marcus quipped, and smiled weakly. "I didn't want to get blood on the leather. Hell to get out." Buffy began opening the buttons on his shirt quickly, ripping it even more in her haste. Marcus tried a weak chuckle. "Not in the mood right now, truth be told." 

Buffy ignored him. "Giles, I need something to stop the bleeding." 

Giles gathered supplies from the bathroom. He threw some towels, gauze, tape, and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide on the sofa. "I'll take it from here, Buffy." 

Buffy moved aside. She folded a towel into a thick pad and soaked it with hydrogen peroxide while Giles carefully pulled the shirt aside. "Good God," Giles said blankly. Four deep gouges ran in parallel lines down Marcus' chest. After a glance at Buffy, he began to clean them as gently as possible. 

Buffy's face registered no expression. "Whatever's chasing you needs a manicure. Or a pedicure." 

Marcus closed his eyes and said nothing. 

"Why don't you check in with Willow?" Giles suggested to Buffy. 

Buffy headed for the phone. She tucked a strand of hair behind her hair while she waited for Willow to answer. "Hi Will, it's me. We've got him. Yes... okay... some cuts, but he'll heal. How's Tara?" Buffy nodded to Giles, relief apparent on her face. "Good. No, it can wait until tomorrow. He needs sleep, Tara needs sleep, you need sleep, I need sleep. It's almost..." Buffy looked at her watch and groaned. "The time, Will, gotta run!" She hung up. 

Giles looked up. "Tara?" He had almost finished bandaging a clearly exhausted and now half-asleep Marcus. 

"She's fine." She paced back and forth in front of the sofa. "Giles, I hate to do this, but I've gotta go. I totally forgot about Dawn." 

"Isn't Spike with her?" he asked. 

Buffy stopped pacing and the tension visibly drained out of her. "Right. Spike's home." She stopped for a beat. "I mean, Spike's with her." She smiled wryly. "I'm tired." 

Giles stood up. Marcus appeared to be fast asleep. "I'll take it from here." He briefly dropped his hand on Buffy's shoulder. "You go home." 

  
Liquidram 

  


Giles walked back into the kitchen after checking on Marcus. _The boy's stamina is amazing,_ he mused. Marcus had appeared asleep when Buffy left, Giles recalled, but one eye had opened as soon as he heard the door shut. "Is she gone now?" he'd whispered hoarsely. Giles shook his head, unable to stop himself from being amused at a young man's pride. 

_And the boy still had the audacity to demand a bath._ Giles grumbled to himself, but not unhappily so, as he poured himself a drink. He'd sat in a chair close to the bathroom door reading; not because he feared Marcus was an escape risk, but because he was afraid the young man might fall asleep in the tub and drown. His concerns were moot. Marcus had been awake enough to splash at uneven intervals. _Probably knew I was listening,_ too, Giles thought, amused. 

Marcus had not resisted when Giles helped him to the back bedroom, nor complained while Giles replaced the water- and blood-soaked bandages with new ones. By the time Giles was done, Marcus was truly asleep. Giles had carefully laid a blanket over the young man and quietly crept from the room. 

And now, an hour later, awake and still pondering, Giles found himself checking on the sleeping figure for a second time. The young man's breathing was even and deep, the sleep of the truly exhausted. Giles nodded in satisfaction, and quietly closed the bedroom door. 

  


_[~ continue to next chapter ~][1]_

   [1]: 10-12.htm



	11. Chapter 10

dark alchemy : part II - Separation : Chapter Ten

  
**

chapter ten

**

Marie 

Buffy's footsteps echoed in the empty streets as she made for home. Any passing observer might think her to be yet another young college student, out in the brisk night air. Her face was a study in concentration. _Who knows,_ she thought, _what Dawn's been up to all this time._

The streets were quiet. _Been quite a day,_ she reflected. As she neared her home, her footsteps slowed, uncertain. _What am I gonna do about Dawn, Mom? Am I doing the right things, for her? I wish you were here... so much._

  
Humanitas 

  
She detoured through the graveyard, which was unusually empty. Normally, there was at least one vampire for a little slayage entertainment. Buffy scowled. _A night when I could use the exercise,_ she grumbled, _and it's peaceful._

It didn't last long. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a figure ducking into a crypt. The door flew open and clanged against the wall, as the vampire hurtled through. Buffy was behind him instantly. The vampire stumbled on the steps and turned, snarling, his back to the crypt wall. 

Buffy came through the door as he turned. She was rushing, not wanting her victim to get away, unsure whether there was a way out other than the way she'd come in. She glanced to either side first, looking directly across the crypt just in time. He charged her, intending to tackle her. He'd been a linebacker for Sunnydale High, and his form was perfect. Unfortunately for him, the Slayer was faster than the average football player. She sidestepped his rush, and spun a kick into his hip as he passed, knocking him just off course enough that he crashed into the doorframe, rather than passing through the still-open doorway. 

"You're exactly what I needed," Buffy's voice was cheerful. After fighting demons and gods, it was almost refreshing to deal with an ordinary old vampire again. "You have no idea of the day I've had." 

He turned and came at her, swinging huge fists in wide, roundhouse arcs. She just kept talking, ducking or blocking each blow as it came in. 

"This guy, Marcus, for starters. Know him?" She ducked under a swing and stepped forward a pace so she was off to his side. The vampire, confused at the question, shook his head. Buffy started to kick at his knee, but he surprised her by swinging his arm back, catching her in the back of the head. Standing on one foot, she lost her balance momentarily, and fell forward, tucking into a roll at the last moment. The roll carried her to her feet, and she grabbed an old board lying on the floor. _Now that's convenient,_ she thought with satisfaction. 

"Not to mention Spike! Isn't my life confusing enough already?" she asked as she brought the board up to block the vampire's swing. He looked even more confused and shook his head as the board made a cracking sound. His fist had broken it in two. 

"Well, aren't we kung-fu," she told him. Her opponent shrugged, a little surprised himself, and gave her a small smile. He swung at her again, but she blocked with one of the broken pieces, and smacked the other against his elbow. He had no time to howl in pain as she drove the first piece into his heart. He exploded into dust. 

  
Solitude1056 

  
Buffy regarded the pile of dust with satisfaction, and dropped the board before wiping her face with the back of her hand. 

"That was too easy," she said to the empty crypt. She left the crypt, closing the door behind her and glanced around, hopefully. Nothing moved. "Fine," she muttered as she walked across the graveyard. "So much for today." 

  
Marie 

  
_ That's one._ Buffy left the graveyard, swinging the gate open with her fingertips and letting it shut on its own behind her. The clang echoed in her ears. _Now I get to find out if Dawn's going to be the second._ Buffy sighed and folded her arms against the late-night chill. 

_God, I'm beat._

  
Lady Starlight 

  


Buffy paused before opening the kitchen door. She listened intently for a second. _Great, voices in my kitchen. Can this night get any better?_

"Look, Little Bit, I know I'm not really _au courant_ with teenage behavior, but isn't one shower usually enough?" 

"No." Dawn's voice had a strange edge to it, and Buffy's sisterly instincts went on full alert as she listened. "It was really just ewww in there. My hair _still_ smells smoky." There was the sound of something slamming, a cabinet door, perhaps. Dawn continued, "and I'm going to have to dry clean my pants from sitting in something really gross." 

"Was it worth it?" 

"No... Not really." There was silence for a bit, and Buffy put her hand on the doorknob. Before she could turn it, Dawn began speaking again. "It wasn't any fun. The music made my ears hurt and I've still got flashy things in my eyes from the lights. I don't even like techno music. I don't know why I went." 

Buffy's eyes narrowed. _Dawn talking about music and lights. Dawn went to a club?_

"I guess I just wanted to go out with my friends," Dawn was saying. "Have some fun. Buffy at least got to go to the Bronze at my age." 

"Well, it can't have been a total waste." 

"Naw... I told you. There was this one cute guy." Dawn sounded wistful, and Spike growled. 

From the porch, Buffy struggled to wipe the smile off her face at Spike's reaction and remind herself of her irritation. _Dawn talking about guys. Deep breath. Okay. Let's get to the bottom of this._ She flung the door open and was satisfied to see the two of them jump. Spike took one look at Buffy's expression, hopped off the counter, and started edging towards the open door. 

"Buffy, you're home!" He waved his hand at Dawn expansively. "And see, here's Dawn, safe and sound." Turning to Dawn, he told her as he took another step towards the door, "Bit, it's been fun, but, places to go, things to kill. You know the score." 

Buffy grabbed Spike by the collar. "You're not going anywhere." She glared at Dawn and pointed towards the living room. "And neither are you." Buffy continued to glare at Dawn until Dawn set down her drink and headed to the living room. Buffy dragged Spike with her, ignoring his squawking about his precious coat. "Now sit!" They plopped down on the couch, Spike's movement aided by Slayer-strength. 

"Lights? Music? Boys?" Buffy barked. "Talk!" 

Spike looked at Dawn. "Dawn, you she'll just ground. Me she'll turn into vacuum food." He turned back to Buffy. "Look, luv, it wasn't really anything. Just one of those whaddy-you-callums, raves. She had her own water bottle and nothing happened. She's fine, see?" 

Buffy turned to Dawn. "Is this true?" 

"Buffy, I just..." 

"Just _what?_" Buffy put her hands on her hips. "You lied to me - you said you were going to a movie, and instead you went to a _rave?_ How could you be so stupid? There's stuff wandering around out there and-" 

"There's _always_ stuff wandering around out there," Dawn burst out. "I just wanted to go out with my friends and have some fun! Be normal for a change! You never let me do anything! Go to school, Dawn. Come straight home, Dawn," she mimicked her older sister. "I just wanted to have fun and maybe meet some cute guys. And guess what, I met one! _And nothing happened!_" 

There was a long pause, as Buffy digested Dawn's outburst. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Spike fidgeting quietly. Raising her chin, she folded her arms and stared at him, waiting. Spike didn't meet her eyes for several seconds. Finally he said softly, "not quite true." 

Dawn fixed him with a murderous glare. "Spike, shut _up._" 

Spike smiled apologetically, distinctly uncomfortable with both sisters glaring at him at the same time. "Dawn," he said, hesitating, "fainting in front of a new beau might have been acceptable in my day, but now, not so much. Tell Buffy what happened. Might be important." 

Buffy buried her face in her hands. "I _so_ don't want to deal with this now." She brought her hands down, and sat down on the coffee table in front of Dawn. "Dawn, talk to me. Remember, I control the credit cards in this family." 

Dawn was sullenly picking at a small hole in the couch cushion. "It wasn't anything. I just saw this cute guy, as I was _leaving._ And I guess the music and the heat just got to me for a minute." Her head came up and she looked thoughtful. 

Buffy frowned. "What else?" 

"It might have been just a trick of the lights, but he looked like he recognized me. I've never seen him before." 

Buffy stood up. "We'll talk about this in the morn..." She checked the time. "Later on. Go to bed now, you look tired." 

Dawn stomped up the stairs. She paused halfway up and asked, "You're going to ground me, aren't you?" 

Buffy looked at Dawn. She was remembering all of the times she had desperately wished to be normal herself, and all of the nasty things that had happened to her. "I don't know yet. Maybe. Probably not for long, though. Much too tired to talk about this now." 

Spike got up from the couch. "Don't be too hard on her. Probably won't try it again." He walked to the door, and paused with his hand on the knob. "Slayer, we need to have a talk with her about boys." 

Buffy rolled her eyes as she pushed him out the door. "What are you, the After-School-Vampire? She's already had the dating-boys-talking-to." She cut off his outraged look by shutting the door, and leant against it for a minute before starting to lock up for the night. 

_Maybe he won't scare the pants off any boy Dawn brings home,_ she thought as she clicked off the living room lamp. _Right, and maybe he'll join us for our next beach party, too._ Buffy climbed the steps to her own bedroom. _Oh, very, very tired now. Going to bed. Need some quality time with Mr. Gordo._

  
Marie 

  


Spike grumbled to himself, kicking a stone on the sidewalk. _ Bloody women!_ He stopped to light a cigarette. _And of course, Buffy doesn't even say 'thanks for watching Dawn for me, Spike.'_ He tossed the match away with an exasperated sigh. 

_ Wonder who's the boy at the rave. Spike's gonna have to have a word with him. Kid needs to know that Dawn has someone watchin' out for her._ Spike leered at the empty street, a wickedly gleeful expression at the idea. _Too many strangers in good old Sunny D. lately. 'Bout time they discovered that the Big Bad's still here._

His wanderings had led him to the steps leading to Giles' place, and he paused, hesitating. _ Blood._ Spike frowned, his eyes narrowing. _But not entirely... human._

Brightening at the prospect of some demon action, he glanced around the empty courtyard a few times before realizing the trail led to Giles' door. _Bloody hell, it's got to be that Marcus fellow._ Spike scowled. _Should've known. Can't trust anyone with strange blood. And the way he was looking at Buffy today - like he knew her._ Spike inhaled deeply on his cigarette, scornful. _ Acting like he knew her better than anyone else._ Spike snorted. _We'll just see about that._

Peering through the window next to the door, he had a sudden shock, as did Giles, who was glancing through the same window at the time. With simultaneous shouts, they both leapt back. A second later, Giles opened the door. 

"Good God, Spike! What the hell are you doing? It's almost one in the morning - what do you want?" 

"What am I doing? What are you doing? Looking out the window at blokes!" Spike threw down his cigarette and ground it out with his toe furiously. "You about gave me a bloody heart attack." 

"Your heart doesn't beat." 

"Yeah, well." Spike glanced past Giles curiously. "That Marcus fellow staying here?" Giles rolled his eyes and nodded. "Thought so." Spike looked smug. "Figured I'd check on you. Try and do a good turn around here, and what bleedin' thanks d'ya get? Huh!" 

"All right, all right. He's asleep." Giles replied. "And no you can't come in. I'm about to go to bed." Giles said, impatiently, then stopped. "But if you're going to be awake, could you do me a favor?" 

"How much is it worth to you?" Spike grinned widely. 

"Bloody hell." Giles closed the door, leaving Spike on the doorstep, bemused. Shortly the door opened again and Giles handed Spike two beers and an envelope. "Slip this under Tara and Willow's door on your way, uh, back to whatever you call it." 

"It's a crypt." Spike regarded the sealed envelope curiously. "What's it say?" 

"It's for them. I was going to deliver it myself, but as long as you're about, you can make yourself useful for once." Ignoring that as beneath contempt, Spike slipped the beers into his coat pockets where they clinked comfortably against his hips. He tucked the envelope into his breast pocket and patted it. "It'll get there, and in one piece." 

"If it doesn't, I may take it out of your hide." Giles pushed his glasses up with a forefinger. "I just may do so anyway. I could use the entertainment." 

Spike scowled, taking the hint, and stepped back as Giles shut the door. He waited until the living room lights were dimmed, then he pulled out one of the beers and began walking. 

  
Methodica &  
Lady Starlight 

  


Simon had ditched the rave soon after the girl had been carried away. A long walk back to the bus station and he was in the worse part of town. The same part, he was sure, that would have the best crash spots for someone traveling on a tight budget. After carefully scouting the area, he noticed a motel room door sagging in its frame. Quietly he pushed it open, waiting until his eyes adjusted to the dark interior. It was empty. __

_Score,_ he thought. 

Dropping his bag on the bed, he laid down on the old mattress, using his bag as a pillow. He stared at the ceiling, caught between making sense of what he'd seen and falling asleep. The curtains were partially open and the street lights were forcing their way into the room as he closed his eyes and replayed the clear unemotional tone saying: "They'll use you, manipulate you for their needs." He closed his eyes, the day's events and his own dreams tumbling around upon themselves, then turning dark and violent against his mind's eye. Gasping, he sat up, but it was another minute before he registered that he was awake. 

He desperately tried to remember the dream, but the details were already fading. Frustrated, Simon helplessly fell back. A few deep breaths later, he'd finally collapsed into the abyss of dreamless sleep. 

  
Marie 

  


Spike made his way to Tara's apartment, finishing the last of the beer. He threw the empty bottle into the gutter and took a right, heading towards the apartment. 

_ I don't like the sound of all this, Spike, my man. Bloody wolf-things. Bloody Marcus. Who the hell does he think he is, comin' here and messin' about with 'is bleedin' wolves?_ Close on that thought came another. _Bloody postman, that's what I am. Should have a uniform. Soddin' babysitter, then a soddin' postman. Soddin' **vampire**, that's what I am!_ He tripped over a step and realized he'd arrived at the girls' apartment complex. 

_Now what?_ he asked himself. _No point goin' in, everywhere'll be locked up._ Then he saw the light was on in their living room. He made his way around the side of the building, and climbed over the low wall onto the patio. The curtains were drawn to, so he tapped on the patio door. There was a rustle, then he saw Tara's face peering out, somewhat fearfully. Her eyes widened when she saw the blond vampire staring back at her, and she unlocked then opened the patio door. 

"Spike," she exclaimed softly, "what is it? Has something ha-happened? Dawn?" 

"Naw, the Bit's fine. Gotta message for you'n Wil from Giles." 

"You can't come in –" started Tara. 

"Huh!" Spike interrupted, "Wassser marrer, witch, you 'fraid the Big Bad's feeelin' hungry?" 

"Uh..n-no.. It's just - Willow's asleep, she's really b-b-beat, and -" Tara interrupted herself to stare at Spike, her eyes suddenly narrowed. "Spike! Are you drunk?" 

"Naw." Spike snorted. "Only had two beers. That's not drunk, just tipsy." He leered at her for emphasis. 

Tara regarded Spike skeptically. "Look, you can come in so long as you're quiet, and I'll make you some coffee – er... you do drink coffee, d-don't you?" As she spoke, Tara held the door wider so Spike could enter. 

"Yeah. Got any biscuits? Cookies, I mean. Bloody Americans. Can't call a biscuit a biscuit! Oh... here's a note from Giles." Spike grumbled as he made himself comfortable on the living room floor. "Flamin' Marcus! Bet he's sleepin' in my old bed, even." 

Ignoring Spike's commentary, Tara crossed the room to look in on Willow. She pulled the bedroom door closed, as Spike stopped and looked up at Tara, suddenly serious. 

"He's not human." 

"What?" 

"Him. Marcus. He ain't human. Dunno quite what he is, exactly. He's got some human blood, but... there's something else." 

Tara let out the breath she'd unconsciously been holding. "How do you know? Did you h-hit him?" 

"Naw. No need. I could smell it." 

Tara grimaced and let his comment pass. "Did you t-t-tell Giles?" 

"Nah. Gonna wait a while, see if the kid says anything himself. Just watch it with him. Buffy wouldn't like it if anything happened to you or Will." 

Frowning to herself, Tara considered the implications, then read Giles' note as she waited for the coffee to percolate. Looking up, she almost giggled. Spike was lying on the rug in front of the small couch, his legs stretched out, his hair mussed, and his eyes not quite focused. _Not quite the big, bad vampire of nightmares,_ she thought. 

"It's nearly two in the morning. What were you doing up, anyway?" Spike regarded her with bleary eyes. 

"Oh, well... I guess I was worried. About Willow, and, um, M-M-Marcus... and I have a paper to do for c-c-class." She started pulling out some crystals from the cupboard, and Spike got up from the floor and crossed over to see what she was getting. 

"This all yer witchy stuff, then, huh? Not gonna get all weird on me, are ya?" 

"Oh, these are just crystals. We use them for protection. See, this one's turquoise. The Navajo use it all the time for healing. It brings balance and harmony. And this one? Bloodstone's a powerful shield against the dark energies. And this amethyst – that's for Wil's nosebleeds." 

_Funny,_ Spike thought, _she doesn't stammer when she talks about this stuff._ Aloud, he said, "Well, blondie, hope it works." He scratched his head. "Err... got anything there for ... oh, never mind." He turned to go. 

"Spike," said Tara, as he reached for the handle on the patio door. He glanced back, impatiently. She smiled sadly. "Get some sleep." 

They stared silently at each other for a long moment, then Spike opened the door and was gone. 

  


_[~ continue to next chapter ~][1]_

   [1]: 11-12.htm



	12. Chapter 11

dark alchemy : part II - Separation : Chapter Eleven

  
**

chapter eleven

**

Liquidram 

He didn't know what woke him up. What he would really have preferred was a mom calling up to him to grab a pop tart, you'll be late for school, or an annoying little brother jumping all over him. Anything rather than waking up in the same clothes he had worn for three days straight. 

_ Food, shower, laundry and toothpaste._ He grimaced, still able to taste smoke and sweat in his mouth from the rave. Simon climbed off the dirty mattress and walked out the door without bothering to close it, munching on a hardened sourdough roll left over from last night's feast. _Californians don't know how lucky they have it with the sourdough bread,_ he contemplated. 

The lady at the desk of the YMCA stole a kindly glance at the ragged boy's back. Letting him sneak in for a shower wasn't any skin off her nose and he was a pretty decent looking kid. Wondering what he would look like with a bit of soap, she turned back to her computer screen. 

Simon crept into the men's locker room and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible. It wasn't too difficult since there were only a couple guys chatting as they packed up their gym bags. They left shortly after Simon had finished brushing his teeth with the tiny travelling toothbrush. He patted it affectionately, and chuckled at himself as he zipped up the outer compartment on his backpack. It was Anne's idea of a proper roadtrip present, but despite his protests at the time, it was a handy thing. He surveyed the locker room as he ran his tongue over his teeth in satisfaction. 

_This is backwards,_ he thought. _I should get my clothes clean, then take a shower. No option there,_ he realized. _I can't very well go into the local Soaps 'n Suds naked - and I can do laundry here, anyway._ He nodded in satisfaction as he stripped down. _Okay, shower first, then clothes. The boxers'll have to wait._

He stepped into the shower and soaped up. The hot water sluicing over his thin body was the greatest of luxuries. _Hot water and clam chowder every night. Now that would be heaven._ After scrubbing his hair, he soaped up his rugby shirt and his socks the best he could. With only a wall-mounted hand dryer, he decided against trying to wash and dry his jeans, too. _This is gonna take all day just for the shirt and socks,_ he grumbled to himself. 

He ran his fingers through the thick brown hair that always refused to behave, and finally gave up, shaking his head like a dog after a swim. When Simon stopped, his hair was sticking in every direction, and hanging in his eyes. He grinned at his reflection. 

Simon pulled the dark green rugby shirt over his head, glad again that he'd borrowed at least one thing nice for the trip. Then he pulled on the jeans, ignoring the annoying spot on at the waist that had refused to dry under the dryer. They were a little on the long side, but better than the ripped ones he'd left as collateral. His converse high-tops weren't the latest style, but at least they were black, and not pink. And now he had clean socks again.

_Even beggars have to have a sense of style,_ he thought_._

He flashed a brilliant toothy smile at the lady behind the desk at the front door. He half expected her to yell at him, and was pleasantly surprised when she smiled back and waved. Once outside, he started back toward the deli from last night. The proprietor had said there was lunch waiting if Simon was willing to stock a bit in the back room. 

_Lunch first, then try the library again._ Hopefully it was open on Sundays in this little hick of a town. _ This time it'll be a lot easier with food in my stomach._

  
Solitude1056 

  


It was just past eight in the morning when Tara tapped on his door, and Giles opened the door almost immediately. Ushering her in quietly, he took the cardboard box from her and carefully placed it on his desk. 

"I think I brought everything I'll need, Mr. Giles," she whispered. "We found some wards that we think will do the trick." 

"Excellent." Giles glanced over her shoulder. 

Tara caught the look. "I left Willow a note to come by when she w-w-woke up... if Xander will give her a ride." 

"Good. She should stay off that ankle." Giles checked his watch. "I'm afraid I've nothing for breakfast, so I'm going to stop and get some on the way back from the shop. Would you like anything?" 

Tara shook her head and smiled as she began unpacking the box. "Only what's needed for tea, if you don't mind." 

"Not at all, please, help yourself." Giles glanced down the hallway, and then turned back to Tara, satisfied as he shrugged on his coat. "I doubt he'll wake up while you're here. Not only was he already exhausted when he left your apartment, the attack was..." Giles searched for a polite way to phrase it. 

"Bad?" 

"Ah, yes." Giles nodded, half to himself. "Yes, very bad." 

"Don't worry, Mr. Giles. I'll stay here and keep an eye on things until you get back." 

"Oh! You won't be joining us for research?" Giles removed his glasses, polishing them haphazardly with a handkerchief. 

Tara shook her head regretfully. "No, I have a paper that's due tomorrow, so I need to do some research of my own. I'll be at the library, but when I'm done... I could stop by here." 

"Yes, please do." Giles smiled at her. "Your knowledge is always appreciated." 

Tara was still blushing, pleased, when Giles left. 

The room suddenly got brighter against his eyelids as someone opened the bedroom's curtains, and Marcus winced. He'd pushed the blanket off his chest at some point during the night, uncomfortable with it against the bandages. Still half-asleep, he reviewed what he could recall of the night before. _I'm pretty sure I did get a bath,_ he thought, hoping that wasn't just part of the night's dreams. Marcus shifted in the bed and froze as pain shot through his body. 

Breathing shallowly, he slowly opened his eyes to see the bedroom door shutting. Confused and frightened, he took quick stock of the room before realizing he was alone, and the visitor must've been his host... _if my host wore gardenia perfume._ Marcus relaxed, and let his head fall back on the pillow, turning slightly look out the window. The curtains were pushed open, just a bit, and there was something hanging from the glass. 

Marcus squinted at it for several minutes before realizing it was some sort of ward. _Giles must've asked the witches to protect the place,_ he thought. _ I wonder if they have any idea what from._

Bracing his hands on the side of the bed, he pulled himself onto his side and pushed himself up. The pain made him gasp. He contemplated crashing to the ground, but decided that doing so when wearing only a blanket would be inappropriate when one of the people rescuing him might be a rather shy young woman. _Rescuing me. Never would have expected that,_ he thought grimly. 

Slowly he forced his breathing to a regular pace, and looked around the room again, noticing the shirt and jeans at the foot of the bed. He smiled to himself. His smile grew wider when he discovered that the shirt wasn't the tattered remnant of his own, but perhaps one of Giles'. The jeans were his own, and already washed. 

_And I thought I couldn't find a way to repay Father Silvestri,_ he mused. _I had no idea of the debts I'd incur._

Nearly fifteen minutes later - and a great many pauses - he opened the door, to find Tara hovering anxiously outside the door. "I d-d-didn't know you w-w-were -" 

Marcus tried to smile at her, but it turned into a grimace as he stepped forward. Tara flinched backwards, and then moved forward, her arm out as if to help. For a long second they stood, staring at each other, then Marcus lowered his eyes, and put his hand on her arm. Carefully she guided him to the sofa and held his arm steadily as he sunk into the seat. Tara's expression was clearly worried, and Marcus wondered if his face was as pale as it felt. 

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't mean to put you out." 

"It's okay," she responded, moving away as she talked over her shoulder. "Giles s-s-said he'd be back in just a few." There was the sound of a cabinet door opening, and the clatter of silverware. "He's gone t-t-to the shop, t-t-to get your belongings." She reappeared again, this time carrying a mug. "Tea?" 

He took it gladly, and accepted the sugar and cream she brought him, too. But before he could say anything, she had moved behind him again, to where he couldn't see her. 

_It feels like she's avoiding me,_ he thought with minor irritation. She reappeared a second later, holding a dark amber bottle in her hands. Perching on the chair across from him, she held it tightly while she watched him blow on the tea. 

"You're not human," she said. 

Marcus was so stunned he nearly dropped his mug, and instead splashed hot tea on his jeans. Yelping, he tried to right the mug, and nearly screamed as the sudden movement made fire shoot through his body. He was still gasping, blinded, when he realized that she'd gotten the mug out of his hands and placed it safely on the coffee table. Despite himself, he started laughing. _This woman's just one surprise after another._

"Technically," he finally said, grinning at her, "I'm half-human." 

Tara nodded, smiling shyly. He sighed, and slowly reached for his cup. When she started to move, he shook his head at her. 

"Thank you, but I'll do it. I won't be a total invalid. But I do thank you for your help," he added. "I'm sorry if I hurt you last night." He wasn't sure whether he meant his reaction at the apartment, or when he'd felt her pushing the incantation into his head, or both. Tara smiled, a little wider, and he was again astonished at how lucky the redheaded witch really was. 

"I just have to ask," he said quietly. "How did you know?" _Does everyone know?_

"Spike told me." 

"Spike." Marcus couldn't place the name, then remembered. _William the Bloody. Well, Spike's an improvement, I suppose._ "The blood. Of course." His rueful smile faded when he remembered with whom he was dealing. "I suppose this changes everything, doesn't it?" 

"How?" 

"Well, the Slayer's not exactly someone who tolerates demons..." Marcus paused, furrowing his brows. "Though if a vampire's part of her crew, I guess..." 

"Buffy's not your usual Slayer." Tara's expression was wry, but at the same time a bit sad. 

Marcus noted the sadness but let it pass. "But now everyone knows." 

Tara shook her head. "No, only myself and Spike. Willow had already g-g-gone to bed. Spike w-w-wanted to see if you'd s-s-say anything on your own." 

"You ruined that one," he teased, and she blushed, ducking her head. 

"Well, I-I-I have reasons of my own." At Marcus' raised eyebrow, she started to respond, then hesitated. "I w-w-was raised in a family where... the, the women are told they're demons." 

Marcus frowned. "They're told what?" 

"T-t-told they'll turn into demons when they turn twenty, and so I'd always thought I was part-demon. But I'm not." 

Marcus nodded. "You found out you were human before... meeting the Slayer and her, uh, army?" 

Tara shook her head. "No. She – and Spike – were the reasons I found out I'm human. I was most worried that W-W-Willow wouldn't..." She trailed off, and half-shrugged. 

"Oh." Marcus' voice was rueful. 

"Y-y-yes," she replied to his unspoken question. "I'm telling you that not b-b-because, uh, I'm telling you b-b-because I thought you needed to know that where you come from isn't, it isn't how these people will judge you." 

Marcus nodded thoughtfully. "I was starting to realize that. But thank you for affirming it," he added. The room was silent for a while as Marcus finished what was left of his tea, and Tara recovered from the minor shock of being so forward. Marcus was about to ask for another cup of tea when Tara put the amber bottle in his hands. 

"What's this?" He turned the bottle over, intrigued by the feminine handwriting on the label, but it wasn't in English. 

"It's a healing oil," Tara said softly. "Willow and I f-f-found the recipe last night... but if you don't -" 

"No, please, I'm very grateful," Marcus interrupted her, his voice somewhere between amazement and apology. "I owe you so much, you and Willow both, for last night. I had no idea what you were doing, I didn't recognize the incantation," he explained self-consciously. "I don't really... know much magick." 

"Really?" Tara sat down next to him, surprised. 

Ruefully, Marcus shook his head, embarrassed. "When my mother died... I started studying her books. I picked up bits here and there, just playing around. Most of it I learned because..." 

When Tara didn't say anything, Marcus shrugged. He could feel the blood in his face as he blushed furiously. "Yeah, I know. What little I know is hopefully impressive, but still. I just learned it because it made people leave me alone." 

"Leave you alone?" Her voice was gentle. 

"Like this." Slowly, he stood up, and Tara gasped as he towered over her. By her reckoning, he was easily a head taller than her - then she blinked, and realized he was only an inch or two taller than Giles. She gave him a dubious look, and he shrugged.

"Just a little glamour, but sometimes it serves its purpose of intimidating someone about to bother me." He grinned at her, an unexpectedly honest expression, as he sank back down on the sofa. It was a minute before he found his voice again. 

"Hard to believe, but I've not always been this talkative." He glanced down at the bottle in his hands again, overcome. "Just being around people. And now I find you were up even later, trying to find something to..." He stopped speaking, his hands gripping the bottle tightly. Marcus had to swallow hard before he could continue. "I'm sorry. I'm not used to -" 

"...people helping?"

He glanced up to see the witch looking at him sadly, but with understanding. Dumbly, he nodded. 

"That's what we do, we help." She indicated the bottle. "When you change bandages, just soak the bandages in oil before you put them on. It won't affect the adhesive tape," Tara added. She frowned, biting her lip. "At least, it didn't when we tested it." She held up a cut finger, almost completely healed. "See? We tested it, and that wasn't a bad cut, so it didn't take long, but..." 

"It's okay," Marcus replied. "I was braced for a few days of walking strangely." He glanced down at the bottle again, still stunned at the turn of events. "Thank you. I'll put it on right now." 

Tara nodded and helped him stand as the door opened. Giles entered with the rucksack over his shoulder, and a bag of groceries in his arms. Nodding hello to both, he noticed that Marcus' color seemed to be better. 

_But it's something else._ Giles couldn't put his finger on what had changed. _On second thought,_ he realized, _ if Marcus meets with Tara's approval, that's enough for me._ Giles took off his coat and hung it up while Tara returned from helping Marcus. 

"The wards are all s-s-set up, Mr. Giles," she told Giles, and he nodded appreciatively as she grabbed her bag and left. 

_A truly remarkable young woman,_ Giles found himself thinking. 

"I have your rucksack here," he exclaimed to Marcus through the bathroom door. "Your father's books all fit into that box?" 

"No, sir." The bathroom door muffled Marcus' voice. "I had them all scanned and put on CD-ROMs." 

"Oh, my." Giles removed his glasses and absent-mindedly started to polish them again as he stared at the bag in consternation. "I suppose this means I'll need to call Willow and let her know she can bring that blasted box with her." 

"Box?" 

"Yes," Giles muttered as he started to put the groceries away. "Lovely."

  
purplegrrl 

  


Giles had a strong sense of déjà vu, a half-hour later, when he answered the knock at the door. _It feels almost like I've never left, that I haven't moved on with my life, that Buffy didn't... die._ He pushed that thought away. Guilt and selfishness made it too painful to dwell on. 

Giles opened the door to find Willow, burdened with computer equipment, standing on the doorstep. 

"Willow," he said, standing aside to allow her in. 

"Computer Girl to the rescue," she told him cheerily as she entered. 

"Did you carry these by yourself?" asked Giles as he shut the door behind her. "Should you be walking?" 

"I'm fine. I kept did the foot up with ice all night, and I'm walking girl today," Willow replied. "Where should I set up?" 

"There, on the table." He went to the kitchen to make tea. 

Willow went about setting up the portable computer with its external CD drive and printer, connecting cables and plugging everything into a surge protector, and then plugged that into the wall outlet. A fleeting image of Oz went through her mind, as sometimes did when she worked on the computer. She was in love with Tara, but she would always have a special place in her heart for Oz. 

Lastly, the redheaded witch took a smooth rose quartz stone from her pocket and rubbed it around the outside of the monitor, across the screen in a giant X, along the keys of the keyboard, and over the top of the CD drive and printer. The vibrations of the stone would help align the forces to aid them in their research. Willow sat in front of the computer and turned the power on. As the machine booted up, she rolled her shoulders, flexed her hands, and waggled her fingers in anticipation of the work to be done. 

"Okay, I'm ready to..." Willow's voice trailed off as Marcus walked out of the bathroom, his freshly washed hair still askew from the shower. "Oh!" she exclaimed. 

Marcus seemed nearly as startled to see her in Mr. Giles' apartment as she was to see him. He tugged at the shirt Giles had loaned him, embarrassed although he knew she couldn't see the bandages wrapping his torso. 

"What?" Giles brought a tray of tea things from the kitchen, breaking the awkward moment. 

"Sorry." Willow scrunched up her face, abashed. "You, uh... he startled me," she explained to Giles. 

"Ah," Giles said, as if he understood, but his raised eyebrows indicated anything but. "I thought it best that Marcus stay here until we know what his father's diaries contain," he explained as he poured cups for each. 

"Right," Willow replied, taking a cup. 

"Marcus, could you get the disks?" Giles asked the younger man. "Your rucksack's here on the table." 

"Yes, sir." Marcus gingerly seated himself next to Willow before retrieving the wooden box from his backpack. Muttering the incantation under his breath, the box gently clicked open. He lifted out the packet of CDs, removing the first one and handing it to Willow. Despite Giles' hospitality, the young man was still wary of giving up control of his father's diaries. 

Nervously, he ran his hands through his damp, tangled hair, wincing as the movement caused the bandages to pull slightly against his skin. He glanced sideways at Willow, who hadn't seemed to notice. Quietly, he whispered to get her attention. 

"Uh... Willow?"

"Mm?" She glanced at him before she slipped the CD into the drive. 

"Is it supposed to... tingle?" Nervously he gestured vaguely at his chest. She frowned, then raised her eyebrows, catching his meaning.

"Yes," she replied, flushing slightly. "That means it's working."

"Oh." Marcus folded his fingers together and tried not to think about scratching. "How's your ankle?"

"All better," she replied. Throwing him a sideways satisfied look, Willow brought up the first two-page image. She was impressed with the resolution and a bit envious of the equipment of whoever had done the scanning. Leaning over her shoulder, Giles peered at the screen. Marcus crowded in from the other side, anxious to understand the cryptic handwriting. Willow reached for a cup of tea and sipped at it while the two men examined the image. 

The longer Giles looked at the coded entries on the pages, the more certain he was he could decipher them. _Assuming I've brought all the necessary books with me from England,_ he thought. _ Rupert Giles' Traveling Library. Sounds like an Old West medicine show._ He straightened and turned to Marcus. 

"I believe I can decipher your father's diaries. The code is a secret language that Ethan, Charles, and I developed based on several obscure books and a mathematical sequence," Giles told the young man. "Are all the pages coded like these?" he continued, indicating the image on the computer screen. 

Marcus thought a moment before answering. "No. Only parts of each book." 

"Then I think it's safe to assume that we only need to concentrate on those pages." Giles turned back to the red-haired young woman. "Willow, I need you to go through each of Marcus' disks and print out all the images that contain the coded entries." 

Marcus started at Mr. Giles' request and reached as if to remove the CD from the drive. Noting his reaction, Giles put his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "I understand your concern, Marcus. But we can't very well translate the diaries on the computer screen. And if, as I suspect, we don't have much time, I'm going to need your help to decipher them." 

Still looking like he might grab and run, Marcus conceded. "All right." He stepped back to give Willow room, but still anxiously watched her movements. 

"Should I start?" asked Willow, glancing back and forth between the two men. 

The former Watcher looked at Marcus, who gave his consent with an almost imperceptible nod. 

"Go ahead," Giles told her. 

Willow printed the current image on the screen. She closed the file and opened the next one, glanced over the text, and printed out the image. Repeating the process over and over, she randomly alternated between printing any given image or not. Soon a small stack of printed sheets waited in the printer's hopper. 

As Willow methodically printed images from the first diary, Giles dug through the crates of books stacked in one corner of the living room. He needed to find his own journals from his time at university, as well as his copy of Tobin's Demon Guide, the Tibetan Book of the Dead, and a set of Arthurian tales written in the original medieval French. 

Marcus had begun to help, but a raised eyebrow from Giles made him decide that staying put might be an acceptable alternate. Secretly, he was glad of it. He wasn't interested in ripping his wounds open if it meant that anyone else – especially a female witch – was going to be part of the audience. 

Giles was certain that the key itself was in one of his journals, but it required particular passages from these obscure or rare books to be complete. Giles hoped he had brought them with him. Lately he had been using his library of arcane texts almost as much as when he had been a Watcher. Back in England, he had become something of a professional ghost chaser. Since the mother country was up to its hackles in haunted castles and the like, the career move could prove to be a lucrative one. _Assuming I ever get back to it,_ he told himself. However, at least for the time being, it appeared he was needed more in Sunnydale. 

Giles finally found the necessary books in the last crate, naturally. He spread them out on the coffee table and settled himself on one end of the couch, while Marcus retrieved the pages from the printer and slowly made his way to the wingback chair. He handed them to Giles, who started flipping through them. 

"You might want to number the sheets," Willow told him helpfully. "In case they get shuffled." 

"That's a good idea, Willow," replied Giles. He proceeded to do just that before handing half the stack to Marcus. "Once we have deciphered your father's diaries," Giles told Marcus as he numbered the next stack, "there may be some additional research to be done. Given Charles' predilection for flowery language, I doubt that even once they're translated the passages will be straightforward." 

"I can help with research," Willow piped up from her seat at the computer. 

"Yes, I was counting on your assistance with that infernal machine." 

"It's called a computer, Giles," she chided him. 

Giles kept any additional computer comments to himself. 

Marcus marveled at the easy rapport between them, and recalled one of his few friends with whom he'd felt so comfortable. He studied the printouts, suddenly feeling quite homesick. 

  


_[~ continue to next chapter ~][1]_

   [1]: 12-12.htm



	13. Chapter 12

dark alchemy : part II - Separation : Chapter Twelve

  
**

chapter twelve

**

Purplegrrl 

**Italy, two months ago**

"Well? Do you think you can do it?" Marcus asked anxiously. 

Engrossed by the strange, handwritten book he held, Paulo shushed him with a distracted wave of his hand. 

Frustrated with the delay, Marcus shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and looked around his friend's living room. He knew there was some sort of organization to this chaos, but he had no idea what form it took. In stereotypical hacker fashion a couple of abandoned coffee cups. The remains of two or three meals and a half dozen projects littered Paulo's worktable. The table also held three computer monitors, a high-res flatbed scanner, several high-powered modems, a CD burner, and other equipment that Marcus couldn't readily identify. Stashed around the room were a number of computer hard drives in various stages of dissection or repair. A shelving unit held more unidentifiable equipment. Cardboard boxes spilled over with printed circuit boards, cabling, and a multitude of disks and CDs. Against one wall a stack of gaming software leaned like the tower of Pisa. 

In one corner squatted a broken-down vintage recliner covered in black-and-white plaid herculon fabric that obviously doubled as a laundry hamper. Dirty socks dribbled over the worn arms of the chair, at least a week's worth of shirts were crumpled in the seat, and a grimy pair of blue jeans had been flung over the back. The stereo system pumped out mesmerizing techno-pop. Marcus thought he recognized the Chemical Brothers. Or was it Moby? He turned as he heard Paulo stir in his chair. 

"You said you had five or six of these books?" asked Paulo. 

"Yeah." 

"And you want them scanned and put on CD?" 

"Yes, one to a disk. But no one can know that you have seen these books. You can't save a copy or e-mail them to one of your hacker buddies or upload them to the Web," cautioned Marcus. 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." 

"I'm serious, Paulo. There are members of my family who seek to destroy these books. They would harm anyone who has knowledge of them." 

"Harm?" squeaked Paulo. 

"Kill them. They are willing to kill anyone who knows of these books," emphasized Marcus. 

"Okay, okay," agreed Paulo. "No saving, no e-mailing, no uploading. I promise." 

"Good. How long do you think it will take?" 

"To scan them all, check the images, clean up, and any re-scanning? At least three or four days." 

Marcus chafed at the time frame, but he knew Paulo would work as fast as he could. "Just so long as every page is legible when you're done." He sat the satchel containing the other books on Paulo's worktable. 

"Marcus, you wound me!" exclaimed Paulo clutching his chest as if he'd been shot. 

Marcus smiled at his friend. "I'll be back at the end of the week. And remember, tell no one." 

Paulo threw him a mock salute as Marcus left the apartment. "Ciao!" 

Once outside, Marcus' worries and sense of foreboding returned. He knew he was putting Paulo at risk, but it couldn't be helped. It was even riskier to continue to have those books in his possession. He could sense something dark looming on the edges of his perception. No matter where Marcus went, the presence followed him. 

Curious and distrustful eyes followed Marcus as he walked the narrow, brick-lined streets back to the public quay. An island in a city of water, Murano was home to a highly secretive society of Italian glassmakers. Century after century they had guarded their closely held glassmaking secrets from intruders and spies. Paulo, a friend from university, was the son of one these protective families. He may not wield the secrets of their society, but they would protect him as if he did. Marcus figured his father's diaries were safe enough for the time being. However, once the copies were made he would have to find a way to permanently safeguard the originals. 

At the dock, Marcus hailed a water taxi to take him back to Venice. _One problem at a time - now is the time for some misdirection._ He needed to put some distance between himself and the diaries. _Venice is out of the question, the rest of Italy only marginally better. Perhaps it's time to do some traveling._ Staying on the move, he would do some research at the university library in Frankfurt, view the art at the Louvre in Paris. Maybe he would stop off in Prague and tour the house where Kafka had lived. _And I'll be back in Venice by the end of the week._

**Ten days later**

The scanning of the diaries had taken a little longer than Paulo had estimated. But when Marcus had seen the clarity of resolution, he hadn't minded the extra time or Paulo's million-lira asking price. 

A little nervous, Marcus stood outside the village church near what had been his mother's villa in central Italy. The backpack on his shoulder held the bundle of original diaries and a much smaller box of CDs that contained the scanned copies. The priest who kept this church, Father Silvestri, had befriended him as a lonely young boy and Marcus felt he could trust the old man. 

He pulled open one of the pair of heavy wooden doors that marked the entrance of the stone church and stepped inside. The cool, dim interior was quiet. Prayer candles flickered on either side of the altar. 

"Father Silvestri?" Marcus called, breaking the silence. 

A door closed somewhere unseen and footsteps hurried towards the sanctuary. The priest appeared in the doorway to the right of the altar. He peered into the gloom. 

"Marcus? Is that you, boy?" 

Marcus smiled. "Yes, Father Silvestri," he replied as he walked up the aisle. 

The two men, one young and one old, greeted each other with a smile and a hearty handshake. 

"How did you know it was me, Father?" 

"Only you have never learned not to yell in the church." 

Marcus smiled ruefully. His expression became serious. "Father, I must ask a great favor of you." 

"Anything I can do, my son." 

Marcus glanced around the empty church. "Can we go to your study?" 

"Of course. Come with me." 

The priest turned and led the young man to his office and living quarters. Reaching his study, he gestured for Marcus to take a chair. "Sit, sit," said Father Silvestri as he took the opposite seat. "Now, tell me what is on your mind." 

Marcus took a deep breath, smelling the dusty books, the faint odor of leather, and the anise candies Father Silvestri kept in a jar on his desk. This room held so many good memories for him. He would never forgive himself if he were needlessly endangering the old priest. But he saw no other way to safeguard the books. "I must ask you to hide something for me. A package." 

"Can you tell me what is in this package?" 

"It is safer for you if I don't." 

The priest nodded. "I understand. May I see it?" 

Marcus withdrew a fairly large leather-wrapped package containing his father's diaries from his backpack. The leather was tooled with the traditional symbols for protection, safekeeping, and invisibility from prying eyes. The edges were completely sealed with thick red sealing wax stamped with arcane symbols representing the magickal seals used by alchemists. Blue and white threads were tied around the package to complete its magickal protection. He handed the package to Father Silvestri. 

The priest's eyes widened slightly at the protected package. He understood about magick and recognized some of the symbols. With a multitude of questions on his face, he looked at Marcus. 

"The package contains nothing inherently evil. But it could do great harm if it falls into the wrong hands. I have protected it to the best of my ability," said Marcus, indicating the magickal wrappings and bindings. "Now I ask you to protect it to the best of yours." 

"What would you have me do?" 

"Wrap it in a twice-blessed linen shroud that has been washed in holy water and dried in the sun, and sew the edges closed with red thread. Bind a silver crucifix to the package with a silken cord. Then place it in an iron box," Marcus told him. 

Father Silvestri looked at the young man in amazement. "But Marcus, those protections are given only to the Church's most holy relics." 

"I know, Father, but it is necessary. At the risk of sounding melodramatic, the fate of the world could depend on what's in this package and it mustn't fall into the wrong hands." 

The priest thought for a moment. "And you promise me that this is not evil?" 

Marcus shook his head. "Only knowledge that could be used for evil." He fervently hoped he was telling the old priest the truth. His father's diaries were written in some sort of coded language that he had been unable to decipher. But Charles Siefer was not the sort of man who trafficked in the darker knowledge of the universe. 

"Then I will do as you ask, my son," conceded the priest. 

"Thank you, Father. You don't know how much this means to me. And one more thing... please bury the iron box beneath the altar of the church." 

"You ask a great deal, my son," the priest sighed, and then smiled at Marcus. "But I'll do it." 

"Thank you," Marcus said again. "I hope some day I can repay you." 

"That is not necessary. It is my duty to protect God's children against the forces of darkness." 

Marcus reluctantly rose to leave. "I have to go." 

"Go with God, my son." Father Silvestri watched the young man turn and leave, his footsteps echoing in the empty church. 

Once outside again in the warm Mediterranean sunshine, Marcus checked his watch. If he hurried he could make his flight to New York. Getting into his rental car, he started the engine and headed back towards Rome. The feelings of darkness and menace were getting stronger. 

  


**end of Part II - Separation  
** _[~ continue to next chapter ~][1]_

   [1]: 13-12.htm



	14. Beginning of Part III - Conjunction - Ch...

dark alchemy : part III - Conjunction : Chapter Thirteen

  
**

chapter thirteen

**

Purplegrrl 

Giles skimmed his university journals to find the entry that detailed the key to the secret language. Finding it at last, he quickly copied the key onto a piece of paper and handed it to Marcus. He and the young man then got down to the business of deciphering the entries in Charles Siefer's diaries. 

"I read the letter your father left for me," Giles told Marcus quietly. 

The young man looked at him. Marcus' eyes reflected hope, fear, and innumerable questions. "Yes?" 

"The letter was a request for me to help you. He seemed to know that you would need it." 

"Do you think you can? Help me, that is." 

Giles took off his glasses, cleaned them on his handkerchief, and put them back on before answering. "I don't know yet. I'm hoping the diaries will have the answers, but there may be other questions you will have to answer." 

"I'll do what I can," replied Marcus. 

The ex-Watcher looked at Marcus for a long moment before getting back to the work at hand. 

  
Lady Starlight 

  


Buffy braced herself for the waves of teenage angst she felt coming down the stairs ahead of Dawn. _ Remember, you are the grown-up. You are in charge. _ She turned as Dawn walked into the kitchen. "You slept late. How're you feeling?" 

**Slam!** Cupboard door closed. **Crash!** Cereal bowl on the table. **Slosh!** Milk in the cereal bowl. 

"Look, Dawn, about last night..." 

"I don't want to talk about it." 

"Why don't you tell me what happened -" 

"I said, I don't want to talk about it!" Dawn picked up her bowl and flopped down on the couch. MTV came on at a level guaranteed to drive adults insane. Buffy picked up the remote and clicked the TV off. 

"Hey! I was _watching_ that!" 

"We need to talk." 

"We don't need to do anything. _I_ need to go to the library today." 

"Library?" 

"You know, big building, books in it. Non-demon information type books. I've got a report to do." 

Buffy checked her watch. "Well, I can take you over, but I can only stay for an hour or so." 

"No, no staying. I'll go by myself." 

"Like I'm going to trust you out alone after last night?" 

Dawn's eyes rolled so far back into her head, Buffy wasn't sure if they were going to come back. "It's broad daylight and I'm going to the library. Ooh, another occasion for Dawn to go wild. There might be boys there, whatever will I do?" 

"It's just that with all this weird stuff..." 

"There's _always_ weird stuff. If there wasn't weird stuff, _that_ would be weird. I'm going to the library now." 

"No, you are not. We are going to talk about what happened last night." 

"I went out! Other people do it all the time. You do it all the time! I. Went. Out. With. My. Friends. Okay, so there wasn't much fun-having, but still." 

"Dawn, you went to a rave! Without telling anyone, I might add. Thank God for Spike, oh, that did _not_ just come out of my mouth - and don't you tell him that, either!" 

"I'm going!" Dawn grabbed her stuff and was out the door. 

Buffy yelled down the street after her, "If I didn't have something _very important _to do, you'd be in _so much trouble!_ " She slammed the door. "Dammit." 

Buffy leaned against the door. _I miss you, Mom._

  
Purplegrrl 

  


The morning wore on. More tea was made and consumed. Conversation was kept to a minimum except to ask or answer questions pertinent to the deciphering or to request the next CD in the series. Gradually, translations of strange rituals began to fill the previously blank sheets. Periodically Willow interrupted her monotonous retrieval and printing task to take another stack of printed sheets to the two men on the couch. Around noon she persuaded Giles to call the local pizza parlor and have lunch delivered. 

As Giles paid the delivery boy, Marcus threw his pencil down in annoyance. The young man began stalking the living room like a caged animal, his hands folded on his chest. Pain shot through him, which only made him more frustrated. 

"What is it?" asked Giles, turning from the door. 

"This is taking too bloody long!" Marcus exclaimed, throwing up his hands. 

Giles set the pizza box on the kitchen pass-through and took off his glasses. "I know it can be frustrating, but I think we've made real progress here this morning. We've translated one complete ritual and most of another. Once we decipher all your father's diaries, we'll know what he was trying to keep secret." 

Marcus shook his head. 

"Why don't you take a break, have some food?" recommended Giles. "I think we could all use a break." He and Marcus locked eyes. 

Sensitive to the tension between the two men, Willow figured silence was the better part of not getting snapped at. She got glasses from the kitchen cupboard and filled them with ice for the soda. From another cupboard she took three plates and put them on the pass-through. Unable to contain her hunger any longer, Willow opened the box and took two slices of pizza for herself. 

"Mmm, cheese and mushroom. My favorite," Willow enthused as she poured herself a glass of soda. 

Marcus broke eye contact first, suddenly embarrassed by his outburst at the man who was trying to help him. "I'll take some of that pizza, Willow." Biting his lip, he sank down on the nearest chair as his injuries continued complaining about the sudden movement. He was trying to figure out a polite way to make sure the bandages were still intact when the red-haired witch handed him a plate and a glass of soda. 

"Is there anything I can help with?" she asked. "You know, rituals, magick stuff? Tara should be here soon if we need backup." 

Giles put his glasses back on and helped himself to some pizza. "Perhaps there is. You could look over the ritual we've already translated and see what you make of it." 

"Sure," replied Willow, glad to get off the computer for a little while and put her witchy skills to use. She took the pages Giles handed her and began reading through the ritual as she slowly munched on her pizza. 

After several minutes of reading the spell's ritualized language, Willow looked up. "It seems to be a cleansing ritual." 

"An exorcism?" asked Giles. 

Willow shook her head. "No, like to purify someone. Like an initiation of some kind. To prepare them for what is to come next. Whatever that is. But it's sympathetic magick." 

"Meaning what, exactly?" 

"That the ritual isn't performed directly on the person to be cleansed or purified. It can even be done without their knowledge." 

"If I understand this correctly," Willow continued, "while burning St. John's wort in an incense burner, create a circle of daffodil bulbs and white candles. In the center of the circle, chrysanthemum petals, birch bark, and bay leaves are sprinkled in a basin of water. A mandrake root, with a symbol or initial carved into it representing the person to be purified, is washed in the water and allowed to dry." 

Willow paused to take a drink and turned the page. "Then a key, a white rose, and a white silk bag filled with wormwood, milfoil, white birch leaves, centaury, peppermint, and pansy are tied to the mandrake root. Oh! And a blown-out hen's egg, that's in the bag, too." 

"Hmm," Giles contemplated. "It seems to be more than a standard cleansing ritual. The key represents the unlocking of the spirit. The hollow egg symbolizes the creation of a new vessel. But a vessel for what?" 

Marcus wasn't certain it was the same ritual, nor could he be certain of its purpose. _Maybe my cousins were telling the truth,_ he thought, uncomfortable with the idea. 

"You said you had part of another ritual translated? Maybe that'll tell us what the vessel is for," she said. 

"Perhaps you're right," replied Giles. "Marcus, would you hand me what we have so far on the second ritual?" 

"Yes, sir," said Marcus as he handed Mr. Giles the pages. He quickly folded his arms, hoping the others hadn't noticed his trembling. 

The young witch and the ex-Watcher huddled together over the pages of translation. Neither of them noticed Marcus' increased agitation. Giles ran his finger under the lines of handwritten text as Willow read parts of them aloud and he described their use. 

"A circle of willow branches," Willow began. 

"Aids in the transference of energies," Giles replied. 

"The shed skin of a lizard -" 

"- representing regeneration -" 

"- ginseng -" 

"- to provide a link to the spirit world -" 

"- carline thistle -" 

"- to draw strength from others -" 

"- a double-edged knife -" 

"- for cutting or severing one thing from another," Giles concluded. 

Willow looked up at Giles. "But transferring what? And to whom?" 

"Me," said Marcus before the older man could speak. Willow and Giles looked at Marcus as if they had momentarily forgotten he was in the room. "I mean," he tried again. "the rituals were done to me. I'm the vessel." 

Willow looked at him in wide-eyed astonishment, while Giles flashed him a look of both amazement and anger. 

"Then you know what's in your father's diaries," Giles said harshly. 

"No," replied Marcus. "Not really." 

Giles shot him another hard look. "I'm beginning to think that Buffy may have had the right idea - to beat the truth out of you." 

"I suppose I deserve that," Marcus said wryly. "I've had to be secretive for so long it's hard to tell anymore who to trust... and I don't know all the details, only what I've been told... And what I remember." 

Giles' expression grew serious as he noted the catch in Marcus' voice. Willow, unwilling to miss a thing, came around the sofa and took a seat in the other chair. 

"Tell us," said Giles. 

"When I was very young my mother would perform divinations on me. As I grew older, she performed ritual cleansings on me, each one different than the last." 

"Cleansings? As in plural?" Willow interrupted, curious that more than one would be performed on a single person. 

"Yes," replied Marcus. "Some of them were sympathetic magick, as you have noted. Others used more... direct methods." 

Willow shuddered at the underlying pain in Marcus' voice. Even Giles looked a little unsettled. 

"I didn't think my father knew or even suspected what my mother was doing. I wasn't supposed to tell him, and I didn't," Marcus continued. "After... my 12th birthday, my mother began doing different rituals on me. One every three to six months up to a month before she died. The second kind of ritual you described is one of those later rituals, I think." 

"What was she trying to transfer into you?" asked Willow. 

"Life." 

Giles looked at Marcus, clearly confused. 

  
Solitude1056 

  
"I was very ill as a child, and the rituals were to make me stronger... she said." His discomfort flickered around the edges of his face. "But my cousins..." 

"But your cousins," Giles prompted the young man, after a long silence. 

"They said she lied, that I'd never been ill, that the rituals weren't a cure." Marcus' voice cracked, finally, and he struggled for several breaths. "They said the rituals were to increase my agility, my strength. They said the rituals have killed others who've tried, and that the fact that I survived meant I would be the one to fulfill the prophecy." 

"Prophecy?" Willow glanced at Giles, her eyebrows raised. 

"I don't know," Marcus said. His shoulders slumped and despite Tara's medicine, his chest was on fire. "Something to do with my clan, with making them strong again. I don't know," he groaned, hiding his face in his hands. "So many people want me to do things, and no one's told me what's going on, or why." Marcus was silent a moment, then laughed, a bitter soft sound.

"The irony is that my cousins told me that if the last ritual isn't completed, I really will die. My body can't handle the incomplete conjunction with the energy. And they say, the choice is simple: let them finish it, or deal with the fact that I'll be buried with my parents far sooner..." 

  
Purplegrrl 

  
Silence filled the apartment as the three of them took in the enormity of that knowledge. 

Finally Giles broke the stillness. "So these rituals that are described in your father's diaries, are they the ones your mother performed on you?" 

"I don't know," whispered Marcus. "I doubt my father was privy to everything that Mother did, and I don't recall the specifics of each ritual very well." Marcus paused, staring at his hands, before saying, almost to himself, "there were so many of them." 

Giles and Willow waited patiently while Marcus regained his self-control. "I didn't discover until just before my father died that he had some sort of protection over me. And I don't know how much he knew, or how. My mother told me never to tell anyone... and I didn't understand the rituals. I only knew that they became more complex, and more... difficult, as I got older." Marcus chewed on his lower lip for a minute, then continued. "My cousins told me the final ritual will permanently bind the energy to me... And I'll live." 

Marcus glanced at Willow, then Giles, from under his lashes, the frightened expression of a cornered child. Willow smiled in response, hoping to reassure him, but was startled as Marcus suddenly stood up, his face pale. Giles came to his own feet immediately, one hand out to Marcus, but the young man shook his head. 

"Please," Marcus whispered, his eyes unfocused as pain whistled through his veins, "I'd like to help some more, I want to know... but I need to lay down." 

Giles stared at him for a second, then nodded his head and stepped aside. Willow waited until the bedroom door had shut behind Marcus, before she turned to Giles. "Can we reverse the process?" 

"I don't know," admitted Giles. "The question isn't can we, but should we." 

  
Liquidram 

  


The door slammed, and Aeralyus hid a smile as he finished pouring himself a drink. The glass vibrated as Talia stormed into the hotel suite. 

_If I could get my hands around his throat just once..!_

_ Come here, that looks nasty._

_Mr. High and Mighty has more important things to do than spend a few quality minutes with his only daughter._

_Told you he probably wouldn't help._

_Hey!_ Talia scowled at her brother as he forced her to sit down on the edge of the bed so he could inspect her injuries. _What are you trying to do, rip my ear off? Anyway, he owes us._

_Yeah, right. Anyway, I don't want to talk about the old man. We don't need his help anyway. Hold still, damn it._ Aeralyus finished licking Talia's wound clean, and sat back with a smug expression. _I found him._

_ You found him? Where? Lemme up!_

_ You're not going anywhere until you get some rest. Don't worry about Marcus. He's out of commission for the time being._ Aeralyus reached for his glass and leaned back against the headboard, pleased. _Ripped him a new attitude. He was feisty, but he's reconsidering now._

_I don't give a good goddamn anymore._ Talia laid down and rolled over on her back, staring balefully at the ceiling. _I just want out of this hellhole. We don't need him any more than we need Father. We've got the rituals. We can start over, from the beginning. Getting pregnant is easy._

_Yeah, easy. It's the rest of it._ Aeralyus put down his glass, his expression dark as he glanced at his sister. _Aunt Algara died because of those rituals. I won't lose you._

_Aunt Algara was a fool. She didn't prepare for the change properly._ Talia made a contemptuous sound and rolled over on her stomach. _Lay down with me for a while?_

_I suppose I could, for a minute._

_Rub my back?_ Talia reached behind her for the dress zipper, and Aeralyus took the hint, zipping the dress open completely. 

_By the Gods, Father - and our cousin - did a number on you. Black and blue is definitely not your color._

_Shut up and rub._

  
Talking Drum 

  


Marcus lay on the guest bed, his shirt off, and his hands poised lightly over his bandaged chest as he struggled to remember the words to his mother's healing meditation. After several rephrases, he felt his skin begin to grow cold and allowed himself a sigh of satisfaction. Repeating the Sumerian phrase exactly, he focused on the words and allowed his hands to flicker in and out, letting his demon nature probe the depth of the wounds. 

_ This should do it,_ he thought, then winced as the pain returned in a burst. Gritting his teeth, he focused on the meditation, relaxing slowly as the pain receded and the numbness returned. _Then another bath, and..._

Marcus continued to repeat the meditation as he drifted at the edge of sleep. 

At first, the vision was shadowy, and the strange syllables of the meditation continued to weave themselves through his images. Eventually the meditation faded, and he was left standing in a room, watching the figures of two young women, an imposing brunette and a slightly smaller blonde facing each other. He squinted, and the image flickered. He was back on the bed of his motel room on his first night in Sunnydale. Rolling over, Marcus saw the word scratched in the wall. He extended his arm towards the letters, tracing them with his index and middle fingers. 

_F - A - I - T - H_ ... 

A paralyzing shock ran through his body. He saw the same fair-skinned woman with dark tousled hair, even darker eyes, all muscles and cleavage in a white tank top, lying stretched out on a bed. It was the same bed he was lying on now, and she was reaching out at the wall just like he was, but with that lethal knife chipping away at the yellowing paint. 

Her mouth turned up in a sly smile and she mouthed something, a provocative whisper. Then she clutched her abdomen and looked down. There was blood pouring from a large gash and Marcus could feel the warmth, the pain, and the shock as if the wound was his own. Even as the visions unfolded, he was fully aware that he was actually still in Mr. Giles' spare bedroom. 

He turned his head away from the gaping wound to face a pitch black sky. An aboriginal female form descended, tribal war paint and wild hair, wielding a jagged bone-hewn blade. He cringed as he heard a shriek: the most primitive of pain cries. 

He turned away, and found himself before another girl, young and beautiful, light brown skin and ebony eyes that darkened as the last flicker of life escaped. She clutched her throat as blood poured from a razor thin slit. His neck was numb and he couldn't inhale. It felt as though his airway was severed, and even to gasp was impossible. 

Before he could react, the primitive warrior blocked his way, teeth bared. He retreated a step, and roaring filled his ears. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a raging bonfire reaching to the sky. The warrior was silhouetted, concealed within the flames. 

With a terrified gasp, Marcus sat straight up in bed, wide awake. 

_Never this intense,_ he thought in terror. Panting, he tried to move, and felt a sudden stab of pain shooting through his body. Fearing the wounds from his dream had become real, he glanced down to see blood slowly seeping through the bandages. Swearing softly, he reached for the package of bandages and prepared to replace the bloodied ones with fresh, and to start the meditation again. 

_ Now I know who it is,_ he thought, amazed. _And that means she's dead. I was a fool, to hope otherwise... _Unable to face dealing with that disappointment, too, he forced the vision away. Taking a deep breath, he began the meditation again. 

  
Marie 

  


Tara had been working some time on her report paper in the University's Library when she became aware of someone standing at her side. Looking up, she saw it was Dawn, and smiled. 

"Hey Dawn," she said. "What's up?" 

Dawn pulled out a chair as she did her best tortured teenager sigh to make it plain that she was not Miss Cheerful of Sunnydale. Viewing Dawn's sulky expression, Tara set her pencil down. 

"I thought maybe you or Willow'd be here. Me'n Buffy had a fight. Again. Gee, ya can't do anything around here without big sister being in your face. Do this, do that, don't do this, don't do that." 

Tara raised a quizzical eyebrow. 

Dawn continued, defensively, "I only went to a little party. Not like I drank alcohol or did drugs! And I only fainted because of the heat or something, it didn't have anything to do with any cute guy, and if it did, it wasn't my fault, was it? I didn't talk to him or anything, and anyway Spike was there and he didn't think it was so bad, and it's mostly him who's been around lately, since Buffy -" 

Dawn came to an abrupt halt, and Tara leaned across to put a comforting hand over Dawn's, which had fisted on the tabletop. 

"Its okay, sweetie. It's hard to think about. It happened, but now she's back. You don't have to be angry any more." 

Dawn looked up, surprised. "You understand. Spike does, too, but that's because he... knows stuff, you know? How come Buffy doesn't? She's always getting on my case." 

Tara smiled sympathetically. "It'll take more time. It's a big adjustment for her, too, you know. It'll come. And you know, there's this business with Marcus..." 

"Marcus?" said Dawn, frowning. 

"The guy at the Magic Box yesterday – oh, I guess you'd left before all that happened." 

"Before all what happened? Buffy never tells me anything!" Dawn flounced back in her chair, her sense of injustice growing. Tara sighed, and explain what happened after Buffy had sent Dawn home. Tara censored the late-night attack, though, as well as the morning's conversation. Dawn caught the hesitation. 

"Is this like the playing checkers explanation?" Dawn asked skeptically. 

Tara smiled, then grew serious again, shaking her head. "Last night, he was attacked again, and hurt... pretty badly." 

Dawn nodded as she saw Tara's expression grow anxious and a little fearful. There was silence for some time, as both girls thought their own thoughts. 

"Sorry." Dawn sighed and stood up. "You, uh, do study stuff, and I'm, uh, gonna go do that English thing, now." 

_Well,_ thought Tara, slightly surprised at Dawn's departure. _What was that all about?_

  
Lady Starlight 

  


Dawn seated herself at the computer and put in a few search terms. _Just like Buffy to have more troubles with strange guys, and then go and take it out on me. Why can't she be reasonable?_ she thought as she typed. _I'm not the one with the funky dating record. It wasn't like I was sleeping with a vampire. Although Spike's ... naw, he's totally strung out on Buffy._

She printed out a list of books and headed off for the stacks. _ That boy last night was kind of cute. Never seen him around before... ah, here we go._ Dawn pulled her choices off the shelf and sat down at a table, soon engrossed in her research. So engrossed, she didn't notice the slender boy peeking around a shelf at her. 

_Is that her? It is her,_ Simon thought, a rush of excitement making his stomach flip-flop. Now that he could get a proper look at her, he realized she was more than just cute. He looked around for her blond chaperone, but didn't see him. _No sign of that guy. Good._ Simon sidled around the corner of the stacks, studying the girl intently. She had checked her printout and was getting up again. Simon quickly ducked back around the corner and grabbed a book at random. 

After a second, he peeked over the book. The girl was nowhere in sight. He took a step backwards, while Dawn was scanning the shelves so intently that she took a step forwards and walked right into someone. The two sprang apart, both surprised and embarrassed. After a pause, Dawn seemed to shake herself, and smiled timidly at him.

"Um, hi. Uh, I mean, sorry." She mentally smacked herself in the head. _Oh, real smooth, Dawn._

The slender young man stared at his feet for a minute, then his green eyes shyly looked back at Dawn. "You just need blinkers, right?" Simon raised his eyebrows, teasing. 

Dawn paused, then looked at him a second time, and laughed. "Hey! I remember you now," she said, and looked over at the shelf again, pulling down the book she needed.

"Um, here for school stuff?" Simon glanced at the book. _I'm an idiot. Might as well ask her what's her sign._

She nodded. "Got an English report due. Seemed like the logical place, English, words, books. You know." 

"Yeah." He grinned. "Um, mind if I sit with you?" 

Dawn's heart started pounding nervously. _A boy wants to sit with me... A cute boy._ "Sure, ok. But my sister'll kill me if I don't get some work done." 

He walked her back to the table. "No problem, I'll just read this -" he glanced at the book in his hand, "fascinating volume on Ernest Hemingway. I'm Simon, by the way." 

"Dawn." 

He sat down across from her. After a few minutes of alternately peeking at him and trying to read, she settled down. 

Simon was actually starting to get interested in Hemingway when he felt eyes on him. He looked up through his lashes and caught Dawn staring at him. He smiled at her, watching her blush from chin to scalp. She dropped her eyes quickly back to her book. 

After a second, she raised her eyes again to see he was staring intently at his book. Dawn noticed a flash of light on his finger. Squinting, she realized it was a silver band. 

She stared at it a second before her eyes wandered back up to observe him closer. His hair was a shaggy dark brown, but his face was squarish, and his high cheekbones gave his eyes a look of continually winking. His lips curved gently, and his long, delicate fingers rested along the sides of the open book in his lap. As far as Dawn could tell, he was relaxed and comfortable. She wondered if it was obvious that she'd just discovered Mexican jumping beans in her stomach. 

"Cool ring," she offered hesitantly. Simon looked up from the book to smile at her, and she was again startled with how well the green in his shirt made the green in his eyes that much more intense.

"Thanks." He put the book down, sliding the ring off his finger, and she accepted it nervously. "Actually..." he made a point of looking around conspiratorially before leaning forward to whisper. "I found it on the street in Beverly Hills." 

Dawn giggled and turned the ring over in her fingers. "It looks like a wedding ring." 

"Dunno." He shrugged, and she handed the ring back to him. "Doesn't say anything inside." Dawn nodded, and the two of them lapsed back into silence. After another minute, Simon cleared his throat. "So, what's your report on?" 

"Macbeth. I had this really cool idea for a paper talking about the usage of opposite imagery. 'Fair is foul, and foul is fair', stuff like that. If I can pull it off, I know I'll get an A for the semester."

He had no idea what she was talking about, but he loved the way her face lit up when she talked. He propped his head on his hand and let her excited words flow over him. 

Simon dug the last of his change out of his pocket and slotted it into the soda machine. "Orange or root beer?" After an hour of sitting with her and watching her work, he was at ease with her in a way he'd never experienced before. 

"Root beer, thanks." She took the can from him and blushed as their fingers brushed slightly. 

They sat outside the library and sipped their drinks in silence. Hesitantly, Simon reached out and twined his fingers with hers. He swallowed hard. "Dawn, I've got something to tell you and you're probably going to think I'm completely crazy -" 

"Not after some of the stuff I've seen," she said quickly. 

He smiled at her. "I just feel like I have to tell you why I'm here, what I'm looking for." 

Dawn smiled, trying to give as much comfort as she could through the touch of her hand. 

  


_[~ continue to next chapter ~][1]_

   [1]: 14-12.htm



	15. Chapter 14

dark alchemy : part III - Conjunction : Chapter Fourteen

  
**

chapter fourteen

**

Marie 

Tara stood in the check-outline, fumbling for her student ID while juggling her books. _Where is - ah. There._ She handed the card and books over and waited while they were scanned through. Glancing casually over at the outside benches as she left the library, she stopped in her tracks for a minute. _There's Dawnie._ Tara looked a second time. _Dawnie, and a boy. And they're holding hands._ She thought of going over and introducing herself, and checked her watch. _Running late already._ She looked back once over her shoulder. _Nope, doesn't look like Dawn's in trouble._

  
Bess 

  


The afternoon sun was warm on their faces as Dawn and Simon sat on a bench outside the library. After several minutes of silence, Simon started speaking. His voice was hesitant as he worked up his courage. "I, uh... I... I'm visiting my, uh..." 

"Family?" she suggested. Simon looked down at the bench, tracing shapes in the wood with a forefinger. 

"I was gonna say that. But it's not true. I don't have any family around here. I grew up in... I grew up... I don't know where I grew up." Simon's voice was forlorn. Dawn took in a quick breath, but didn't remove her hand from his. "I don't know much of anything, about me." Simon frowned. "I mean, I don't know if anything is _true._" 

"True?" she interjected, echoing his words. He grinned, a tad sheepishly. 

"There's the things I tell people to get rides or lunch or whatever. Like, I'm going to meet my older brother because my dad kicked me out. Sad stuff. I practically forget that they aren't true." He noticed her eyes getting more distant as he spoke. "I sound like a jerk now, right?" 

"No." she smiled at him, a little wry face. "Sounds more like me every minute." 

"Uh... I don't understand. What don't you know about yourself? You got a family, I'll bet. Lots of those cute photo albums." 

"It doesn't mean anything. Wait. I take that back. It means a lot, I guess. But it's not the same as being real." 

"You lost me." 

"Simon." She bent close, conspiratorially, as an older man shuffled past. "You told me you were looking for something, right?" 

"Yeah." 

"Well, I am too. So tell me yours first." 

"I'm looking for a girl." She blushed furiously at this, and sat back up, fidgeting with the sleeves of her shirt. He glanced down. "Not like that." Dawn pretended that this didn't bother her in the slightest, which it did, and tossed her hair over one shoulder. 

"Oh. Right." Dawn did her best to sound nonchalant. "What's her name?" 

"I don't know." 

"Oh." 

"I'm not in love with her or anything. I... she did something for me, a while ago. I owe her my thanks," he said, adding silently, _and my respects. _He noticed that her hand was still on his, and his soda was practically untouched. He cut himself off and smiled at her. "Your turn." 

"I'm looking for my purpose. Reason for existing. That's it." 

"Did you try the Self-Help section?" He gestured to the library doors and she smacked him playfully. 

"Not even close. I'll explain it to you sometime." She thought, briefly, of her sister mingling blood for blood. "This girl, she... means a lot to you, huh?" 

"She saved my life, in a... a really bad situation." Simon watched her smile blossom. 

"Yeah, been there." She grinned. "Want to come to dinner?" 

Simon smiled, shy again. _Knees don't knock when sitting,_ he thought, relieved. 

  
Marie 

  


There was a knock on Giles' door. 

"Information overload," Buffy announced as she answered the door, glad for the distraction. She'd arrived only a half-hour before and was immediately overwhelmed with information on too little sleep. She wasn't glad, though, to open the door and discover Xander and a blanket-shrouded Spike squabbling on the doorstep. 

"For pity's sake, Donut Boy, stop yer whining, or I'll give you something to really moan about," Spike was saying as he barreled past Xander and Buffy into the living room. 

"No, you listen, pal. You ate three of these donuts; it's about time you paid your share." 

Buffy rolled her eyes at both of them, and seating herself at the table again. 

Spike shrugged and perched himself on the kitchen counter. Xander gave him a disgusted look as he started to place the box on the kitchen counter. He thought better of it and put the box on the table next to Willow, pulling out the empty chair beside her and sitting down. 

"Where's the boy wonder," Xander asked Willow as he glanced around the living room a second time. 

  
Solitude1056 

  
"Resting," Willow replied, carefully closing the ancient book. 

Not more than ten minutes later, there was another knock on the door. This time Xander got it, opening the door to welcome Anya and Tara. Tara put down her books, sending a smile across the room to Willow. 

"Careful about the jaw, honey," Anya reminded Xander just as he was about to give her a quick kiss. He smiled at her and kissed her on the nose, instead, and she gave him a wry look. 

Spike nodded hello as he seated himself next to Giles and snagged one of the untranslated sheets. Regarding it dubiously for a few seconds, he finally pushed it back to Giles. Spike's smirk clearly stated the group shouldn't expect too much help in translating from him. 

Giles took the paper back with an exasperated sigh and removed his glasses. Xander gave up his seat for Tara, and leaned against the back of the sofa as Anya seated herself between Buffy and Spike. 

"This is what we've discovered so far," Willow began, when everyone was settled. "Marcus' mother began a series of rituals on him when he was still quite young, and continued up to just before his sixteenth birthday. These rituals were -" she faltered. 

"Tedious?" Spike grinned slyly. "Those old long-winded rituals usually are..." His voice trailed off as he saw Buffy's pale face. Puzzled, he glanced at Giles. 

"Most rituals would be a cakewalk compared to these," Giles said. "Marcus has been under the impression, so he told us, that the rituals described in his father's journals were intended to cure him of some childhood illness." Giles sighed, his voice pitched low so as not to travel to the back bedroom. "However, shortly after his father died, his cousins -" 

"The ones who attacked the shop yesterday -" Willow whispered, half to herself. 

"And attacked him again late last night, it seems," Giles added. "Be that as it may, these cousins informed him that these rituals were not, in fact, to cure anything. They believe the rituals were designed to make him a vessel suitable for fulfilling a clan prophecy." 

Xander glanced at Buffy. Her eyes were lowered, and her expression blank, and Xander could feel something in his chest ache. _Not again,_ he thought. He glanced back at Giles, who seemed to understand. 

"Marcus went to lay down shortly before Buffy arrived. Some of it I've already explained, but I didn't want to say more until I found a passage that confirmed my guesses." Giles paused again, and exhaled. "Now, it seems, we know the rituals, and their purpose." 

"These are they?" Spike asked, curious. He snagged another sheet and stared at it for a few minutes. "Looks like gibberish to me." 

  
Purplegrrl 

  
Giles took the sheet back. "That's the untranslated text." Giles shuffled his papers, searching as he spoke. "The journals spend most of the time describing the ritual and the actual processes, but one of the later entries discusses a conversation between Marcus' father and someone of his acquaintance who was versed in these methods to some extent. Charles - that's Marcus' father - lists what he discovered." Giles pulled the sheet out, and stared at it for a moment before speaking again. 

"The rituals are extremely complex mystical operations involving the will of the wielder," Giles read out loud. "They involve using a Sphere of Elämä to focus the person's will upon the intended object." 

"As for example, Marcus." Xander's voice was flat, but his tone betrayed a bit of discomfort. 

Giles nodded, and referred to the paper again. "The object of the ritual would have felt invaded, violated even. The rituals are painful, strenuous, and in some cases, humiliating." 

"But why -" Spike started to ask, skeptical. 

Willow cut him off with a sad look. "He thought they were how his mother was showing her love for him," she said. "He thought she was trying to cure him of a serious illness." 

Buffy closed her eyes, and Xander stared at his hands. Spike's stomach felt queasy. 

"These rituals involve," Giles continued, "the ripping apart or tearing off a portion of the energy that is the fundamental part of a person, and transferring it to another person." 

"Like an organ transplant," Willow interrupted again, and Giles glanced at her, a bit irked. She shrugged slightly and ducked her head. Across from her, Buffy hid a smile. 

"I saw one of those on T.V.," Anya offered, but fell silent when Giles glared at her. Making a face, she folded her arms and didn't say anything else. 

"Yes, well. In this case, the transferee has no right to the energy they are receiving. It's foreign to their being. Their body, soul, spirit, energy wants to reject this foreign energy." Giles put down the paper and rubbed his temples. "Eventually the foreign energy becomes integrated into the transferee - the object of the ritual - and becomes a part of them. The rituals' side-effects are..." Giles shuffled the papers, looking for another paper. "Here it is. Side effects. Pain in limbs and joints, high fever, a feeling of being split in two, severe nausea, intense headaches, dizziness, and temporary weakness." 

"I'd categorize those as harsh," Xander offered, but quietly. 

"Indeed." Giles sighed. "However, the intended benefits are increased strength, superb agility, and... the ability to detect vampires." 

"Bloody hell." Spike kept his voice almost inaudible, but he was furious. _Hasn't she been through enough? She hasn't recovered completely yet from..._ Spike slammed a door on those thoughts. He wasn't ready to take the scab off those wounds yet. 

The room was silent, and slowly each person looked at Buffy. Her jaw was set, and the only change was a flicker of her eyelashes as she stared at Giles. 

"You believe him," she finally said, "when he says he had no idea?" 

Giles nodded as he removed his glasses and polished them with a handkerchief. "As much as I can, yes." 

Willow looked at Buffy, her expression sad. "He really thought his mother..." 

"...loved him." Xander's voice was subdued. Buffy glanced at Xander's sobered expression, then at Spike's look of disbelief, Tara's stricken face, and Anya's confusion. Finally, she sighed, agreeing to the unspoken group decision. 

Spike turned to Giles. "His mother put him through hell so he could be his clan's personal Slayer?" 

Giles looked at the vampire for a long moment before answering. "The journals indicate that Marcus' mother was trying to subvert the Slayer energy. She was trying to eliminate the line of female Slayers by diverting their powers into a male child." 

"So demons can rule again," Xander concluded, and Giles nodded. 

"Wh-what can we do to make it right?" Tara looked over the stack of books and papers. 

"I don't know." Giles stood up, stretching his back slightly before regarding the group. "Originally I couldn't see reason to undo the rituals, but now it appears that we may have no choice." 

"As long as he's got the energy in him," Buffy stated, firmly, "there's a risk his family - or anyone else - will force him to take that last step." 

"The rituals to reverse the transference are most likely as difficult," Giles replied, his tone pensive. "The foreign energy is now an integral part of Marcus. It must be ripped out of him and sent back to its source. It would take a strong person, mentally and physically, to survive these rituals twice." 

  
Marie 

  


Marcus appeared, his hand on the wall for support, shortly after the group had dispersed to continue translating and researching. The color in his face was better than before, Giles noticed, but the young man was still markedly paler than the day before when he'd strode into the Magic Box in a full temper. Marcus nodded to everyone, and accepted a stack of papers from Giles before he seated himself on the sofa and began to work again. 

From where he sat at the table, Xander glanced over a few times at the back of Marcus' head, regarding the stranger's oblivious silhouette with a mixture of disgust and pity. "His own mother," he mouthed almost inaudibly, disbelieving. 

Anya made an unhappy face in response, and lowered her head to continue studying the tomes in front of her. Spike caught Xander's pensive expression, and frowned, glancing over his shoulder to see what Xander was staring at. Buffy snagged the last jelly donut as Xander got up and crossed the living room to sit on the coffee table, his long legs barely fitting between the table and the sofa. 

"How're you feeling?" Xander asked softly. "You look pretty beat. Didn't that stuff from Tara and Willow help?" 

"I'm fine," Marcus said, if a little hollowly. His face was pale, and the lines of pain were beginning to show on his face again. "It was very good stuff, as it happens. Must be wearing off, that's all." As he spoke, he glanced to his side to see Buffy leaning a hip against the back of the couch and watching him. Her face showed nothing of what she was thinking. She finished licking her fingers from the jelly donut, and moved out of his line of sight. 

Marcus sighed, then focused on Xander. "Actually," he continued, "I could do with a drink. A good stiff brandy, maybe." 

Willow looked up. "Not a good idea. Alcohol and healing magick – ooh. And -" she included Spike and Xander in her righteous glare "- you need to keep a clear head for research. Everyone does." 

Spike seated himself on the wingback chair next to the sofa. He waited until Willow turned her attention back to her books before he silently mimicked her tone and expression. Xander curled a lip in response, and Spike jerked his head, just once, in the direction of the kitchen. Xander nodded, so quickly that Marcus wasn't sure Xander had even responded. 

Spike went to the kitchen, waiting until no one was watching. He quietly retrieved what was left of the scotch from the night before and poured a good-sized shot into a coffee mug. Stowing the bottle again, he walked over to Marcus and sat on the sofa arm. Marcus tensed at being flanked by the two men, but Spike put the mug in Marcus' hand. 

"Here," Spike said, conversationally. "Have some coffee, mate, that'll put hair on yer chest." And, for once in complete accord, Xander and Spike grinned widely at each other. 

  
Lady Starlight 

  


Simon had decided to forgo mentioning the dreams, and told Dawn only about the rescue from Hell. He waited for some reaction from Dawn, but he didn't expect her to yank her hand angrily from his. He blinked, hurt. "What?" 

"Buffy. It's always Buffy." 

"Who's Buffy?" He was totally confused by now. 

"Buffy's my sister. Just because she's some hero, everyone thinks she's so special." 

Simon couldn't think of any way to calm Dawn's unexpected anger. He put his hand on her leg, squeezing gently to get her attention. "Look, I'm not sure that's who I'm looking for, but even if it is, you're the one I'm sitting with." 

She dropped her hand into her hands. He had to strain to hear her muffled words. "I'm sorry. It's just, Buffy's so pretty, so strong and brave..." 

He slid an arm along her shoulders. "I think you're prettier." 

Her head came up, almost smacking him in the face. "You do?" 

Simon couldn't think of anything to say, so he just smiled and shrugged. Dawn didn't make any moves to wriggle out of his arm, and the two of them stayed like that for several minutes, both lost in their thoughts. 

  
Solitude1056 

  


Xander wasn't having much luck with his assignment, and frequently grumbled to anyone within hearing about the impossibility of finding a single word in a dozen books. Willow raised her head from her own search and asked him pointedly what he was mumbling. 

"It's this word," Xander replied. "I can't find it anywhere." He handed the papers across the back of the sofa to Tara, who handed them to Willow. 

"Mar-lan." Willow frowned. 

"I think it's a type of fish," Anya said. 

"No," Tara interrupted, "it's the guy in the Arthurian legends, isn't it?" 

"The one with the pointy hat?" Buffy looked confused. 

Behind them, Giles sighed as he placed three more books on the table. "No, it's a term for some type of demon, but it's a new one to me." He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. 

"It's a half-breed." Marcus' voice was quiet, and distinctly uncomfortable. The room fell silent, and he found himself staring intently at a small stain on a page of his book. 

"Rewind," Buffy commanded. 

Marcus frowned at her, then glanced at Giles, who shrugged almost imperceptibly. Buffy noticed, and scowled at him before turning her attention back to Marcus. 

"I mean," she said, rolling her eyes, "say that again?" 

Marcus flushed. "Marlan is the term for someone who is half-demon or less, when the demon half is Marcul." 

"So... the rituals require a half-breed," Willow started. 

"I prefer," Marcus interrupted her quietly, "the term Marlan." 

Willow started, and glanced at Buffy, who nodded slightly. Xander's eyes were narrowed as he carefully measured the stranger. Marcus shifted slightly in his chair, and hoped the residual pain wasn't too obvious. 

"Ohhhkay, Marlan." Buffy got up and walked around to stand at the end of the sofa, her arms crossed. "And the demon half is what again?" 

"A Marcul," he replied. When she nodded, he slowly exhaled, keeping one hand on his chest as he leaned forward to close the book in front of him. 

"As for example, Marcus?" Xander asked, a soft tone of skepticism coloring his question. 

Marcus nodded. "I was named for my mother's clan. The Marcul are one of the oldest demon hybrids. Even the purest Marcul has some human blood, since every few generations the genetic lines have to be strengthened." 

"Strengthened?" This from Giles, still standing behind Buffy. 

"You've perhaps heard of Ethros demons?" 

Giles nodded slowly, his expression growing suspicious. 

Marcus caught the look and shook his head slightly. "No, the Marcul aren't Ethros, but it's a similar background. Both require a shell of some sort, and can't exist for long in their true shape. The Ethros, however, live a great deal longer because they hop from shell to shell. The Marcul are born with one, and have it throughout their lives. When the shell gives out, that's it. The more humanity, the longer the body can survive housing the demon part. Too much humanity, though, and the clan's strengths are diluted." 

"So all Marcul are part human?" Willow asked, her face alight with fascination. Marcus noticed Xander was frowning at Willow, who made a face back at him. 

"Yes, but the purest are only an eighth or so human. The clan's quite strict about bloodlines, including arranged marriages. My mother was nearly as close to pure Marcul as one can get, given the mixed ancestry." Marcus stared at his hands, uncertain, before exhaling slowly and continuing. "But my father wasn't another Marcul or even Marcul descendant, but a full human." 

Willow chewed on her lip as she listened, clearly thinking about it seriously. Marcus shook his head almost imperceptibly before she had a chance to speak. "This demon race is not well-known; like many of our Italian human neighbors, we've a tradition of secretiveness. And perhaps it's because even full-blood members appear human." 

Buffy looked at Marcus' chest, pointedly. He flushed, one hand instinctively going up before he forced himself to relax. "No, Marcul in their true forms aren't even close to human. But the human genetics allow the Marcul to appear human. When necessary, the demon appears... sort of like the way vampires..." 

"- get all bumpy." Buffy raised an eyebrow. 

"Bumpy." Marcus rolled the visual around in his mind, smiling wryly. "Not that Marcul do – they tend to get somewhere between scaly and hairy." 

"And your cousin," Tara interrupted, "sounds like a wolf." 

"Pardon?" 

"Last n-n-night, when we w-w-were..." Tara glanced at Willow, who nodded and turned to Marcus. 

"We heard a wolf howl." 

Marcus was silent. 

The group exchanged curious glances at Marcus' reaction. His eyes were closed, and his face had paled. When his eyes opened again, his expression was strained. 

"That wasn't my cousin. That was me." 

  


_[~ continue to next chapter ~][1]_

   [1]: 15-12.htm



	16. Chapter 15

dark alchemy : part III - Conjunction : Chapter Fifteen

  
**

chapter fifteen

**

Solitude1056 

Buffy checked her watch, jumping up as she realized the time. "Dawn had better be home," she muttered to no one in particular as she dialed. "I left her a huge pile of laundry to fold." No one said anything as Buffy paced, waiting for Dawn to answer. She scowled when the answering machine picked up instead, and hung up the phone. 

Tara looked up from her book. "I saw her at the library," she told Buffy. "Sh-she was hanging out with a friend." Buffy's head swung around, her expression thunderous, and Tara shrunk back beside Willow. "Th-th-they were just talking," Tara added, and looked back down at her book. 

"A boy, dark hair, lanky?" Spike was immediately on edge. 

Buffy turned to Spike, angry. "I thought you didn't see him." 

"No, but she told me -" Spike halted as Buffy put her hands on her hips. He shrugged and tried to appear unconcerned. "Well, if you'd listened to her rather than bawling her out for -" 

"I did _not_ bawl her anything. I _grounded_ her, and I'm the adult here. That's what I _do_." Buffy noticed Willow staring at her, one eyebrow raised, and Buffy turned to her, clearly flustered. "I mean, here I am being parental-like, and she went to a _rave_." 

"Oh, I've heard they're lots of fun." Tara stopped at Buffy's glare, glancing sideways at Willow with wide eyes before ducking her head again. 

"No, I saw a TV show about it," Anya announced. "They have drugs, and smoking, and sometimes, there's illicit sex, but you don't remember it because of these pills -" 

"I don't want to hear it," Buffy snapped as she grabbed her coat. "Find out whatever you can about these rituals, and what we can do about them. I'll either be at the library finding Dawn, or at home counting my pennies for a girls-only boarding school." The windows rattled as Buffy slammed the door behind her. 

"Didn't take that very well," Willow finally offered, to no one in particular. 

"It's Niblet, remember." Spike sighed. "Buffy doesn't take much well when it comes to being a parent." 

  
Liquidram 

  


"Here's a reversal spell for animal transformation." Xander called out to Willow, holding up his book. 

"I know that book. That spell didn't even work on Amy," Willow replied. 

Xander flipped the book shut as his stomach grumbled for the third time. "How about a dinner break, Warden. I'm starved." 

"Best idea I've heard, Harris. You do show potential, after all." Spike smirked, hopping up from Giles' easy chair where he had planted himself. "You too tired to do a bit of patrolling later? Meet me at my crypt." 

As the women stood up, Marcus instinctively stood up as well, and Willow frowned at his grimace of pain. "Tara and I have dinner planned with some friends, so we've got to be going soon." She started gathering her notes for Giles. 

"But first, we have wards for everyone to d-d-disperse," Tara told the group. She finished digging in her bag and pulled out a shoebox. When she opened it, Anya leaned over to investigate. 

"Little presents," Anya exclaimed. Tara smiled. The bundles were red felt-wrapped balls, about the size of a quarter in diameter, with white string tying each one off to leave a little burst of felt. Soft and warm, the bundles weighed no more than a crumpled wad of paper.

Xander handed Anya her coat as Tara started handing one to each. "What's this," he asked, perplexed by the little object. "And what do I do with it?" 

"It's the opposite of the wards we put up this morning, which cloak Marcus." Tara handed a bundle to each person except Marcus and Giles, who watched curiously. "These d-d-duplicate his energy, and will make it seem like he's in, in, twenty places at once." Satisfied, she closed the box lid over the rest of the bundles and placed the box out of the way on the desk. 

"We came up with this idea ourselves," Willow added proudly. Tara and Willow shared a quick smile.

"We need to put them all around town. That will mislead th-th-" Tara stopped, and looked away from Marcus, embarrassed.

"Bad guys?" Anya had on her serious face. 

"R-right," Tara continued. "It'll confuse them." 

Spike sniffed his bundle, suspicious, then made a face. "It smells like -" 

"Like what?" Xander asked, still wary. 

Willow jerked her head in Marcus's direction. "His blood, probably. Giles gave Tara the used bandages as the basis for the wards." 

Xander regarded the bundle in his hand with disgust, then Anya took it and tucked it into his pocket. "Blood's the oldest type of ward," she told him brusquely. "It won't hurt you. And I'm hungry. Let's go." 

"Wait," Xander said, and turned to Giles. "Got any masking tape?" 

"Top drawer of the desk." Giles looked confused.

Xander yanked the drawer open and dug through it until he found the tape. Holding it up with a mischievous look, he asked Tara for three more bundles. He unrolled the tape and laid it on the desk, sticky side facing up. Pulling the first bundle out of his pocket, he stuck it to the tape, and stuck the other three next to it. Ripping off the tape and putting it back in the drawer, he stuck his thumbs on the ends of the tape and held them up.

"You're making one big one?" Spike asked, dubious.

"No, Einstein," Xander replied. "I'm gonna tape these puppies to the back of a cab."

Anya rolled her eyes good-naturedly at her fiancé as she followed him, Spike, and Willow out the door. Tara paused as she pulled on her coat. "Mr. Giles, we can come back after dinner, if you need us." 

"No, I think we'll be okay. I'll call if we need you." Giles turned back to the diary pages he was reading. Marcus looked up once from his book, and went back to reading. Tara looked at the two men, and quietly shut the door behind her. 

  
Lady Starlight 

  


Buffy walked up quietly behind Dawn and whoever it was. _At least they're not kissing,_ she thought. She cleared her throat and was gratified when they sprang apart in shock. 

"So, doing research for your paper? Let me guess, Teenage Mating Habits? Or, Lying to your Sister and How to Get Away With It?" 

"Buffy, hi. Um, how's Giles? Have you met Simon yet? Simon, Buffy. Buffy, Simon. Oww, quit it!" Buffy dragged Dawn to the other side of the library steps where they could have a little privacy. 

"Who is he?" Buffy jerked her head in Simon's direction. 

"I told you already, his name is Simon." 

"Not his name, who he is. Why is he here?" 

"He's here because he likes me. Me, not you! Not everything has to be about you. Well, it started out as about you, but now it's about me. And him. And not you." 

"Got the not-me part, but go over it again. Slowly. It's been a hard day." 

"Do you remember when you ran away to LA? And rescued all those kids from Hell? Simon was one of them." Buffy turned and looked at Simon for a minute. A fuzzy scrap of memory came back to her. Dawn continued, a hopeful note entering her voice, "he's been looking for you for a long time." 

"And now he's found me. Why was he looking anyway?" 

"He says he wanted to thank you 'n stuff." 

Buffy looked over at Simon again. He smiled nervously and ducked his head. 

"He's a little young to be running around by himself, isn't he?" She stared at him, her eyes narrowed. _Or is he? If he was in Hell, there's no telling how old..._ She shook herself, realizing Dawn was still speaking. 

"Buffy, can we ask him to dinner?" 

"Dinner?" 

"You know, that thing we do with food in an hour? Please? I think you'll really like him." 

"Dawn, you don't even know him. He shows up here with this... story, and -" 

"I do know him! I can't explain it, but we know each other somehow." 

"C'mon, Dawn, this is ridiculous. Say goodbye and let's go!" 

"No! You're not listening to me. He's... good." 

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Right. And we all know that bad things walk around in pretty packaging." 

"Like Angel?" The name brought Buffy up short. "You had Angel napping on your floor when you were sixteen. I'm fifteen, and I just want to feed him _dinner._ " 

"Angel and I were different." 

"Why? Because you're the Slayer? The Chosen One? Or because Angel had a soul?" 

"I guess, um-" 

"Buffy, please! You've got to believe me!" Buffy looked at the tears in her sister's eyes and sighed. She thought about it for a minute, and relented.

"All right, go ask him to dinner." The responding abrupt hug made her gasp, and she was still blinking as Dawn headed back to Simon. Buffy watched her sister talking excitedly to Simon for a minute before walking over to join them. 

  
Solitude1056 

  


Marcus flipped through the translated printouts, his eyes repeatedly drawn to the top of each entry. Each began with a set of symbols and numbers, but Giles' complex decryption had reduced the lines to just as much nonsense as the original form. Marcus furrowed his brow as he laid out the pages so he could only see the single, untranslated lines. 

"What is it," Giles asked from his side of the table. The tea cups sat empty on various sheets, marking the piles of translated and untranslated texts, sorted into Charles' lengthy description of the rituals and another for Charles' speculations on purposes and cures. 

"The parts we haven't translated, at the top of each entry," Marcus replied softly as he stared at the series of symbols and numbers. Glancing at the books on the table, he noticed the astronomical almanac sitting under the pile, and suddenly, he understood. 

"Of course. Those symbols don't stand for anything but what they are, and the numbers aren't part of the code. This is the symbol for the sun followed by the astrological symbol designating the month, and the symbol for the moon indicating the phase. These next two numbers must correspond to my age, since his comments" - he flipped through a few more papers and nodded - "here, about my 18th birthday, all say eighteen in this set, and this last symbol is for Mars, which I think is the day of the week." He tossed some of the sheets aside and scrambled for a handful more, to double-check. "Yes, here's the sun, for Sunday, and the symbol for Saturn, which would be..." 

"...Saturday," Giles finished for him. 

The young man was staring at the papers, stunned. "The journals weren't numbered chronologically after all. That means the first entry is actually..." He grabbed the almanac, barely keeping the rest of the books from tumbling everywhere, and flipped it open, running his finger down the tables of the moon's position. Flipping through a few more pages, he found the sun and moon positions for the year he turned fifteen. _The year my father began insisting on regular holidays together,_ he thought. 

Marcus took a deep breath and dug through the papers again, looking for a journal entry with the lowest number indicating his age. He found it in the untranslated pile: sun in Aries, the moon in the third quarter, a Wednesday. Bending over the paper, he translated carefully as Giles began to mark dates on the rest of the papers. 

  
Purplegrrl 

  


_ _

All that time, the journal began...

_She thought I hadn't known, she thought I was asleep. Algara would putter around the kitchen of our villa late at night. I'd seen her bring in various herbs, and knew their purposes to improve second sight. I saw their residue in her mortar and pestle, and I crouched on the stairs, silent, as she'd take a large, shallow bowl from the cupboard, fill it with water and add three drops of olive oil. Then she'd sprinkle a handful of the ground herbs into the basin. _

_She never realized I was watching, that I was aware enough to wake up when she left our bed. And she didn't realize I'd learned more from her than I let on. From where I hid, I could sometimes see the oil and herbs swirling across the surface of the water, I could see voids appear and subsume. Her eyes would turn completely black as she watched, staring into its depths for several minutes before breaking her concentration. She'd stir the water with her hand to end the spell, and leave the house. _

_Returning to our bedroom, I'd watch her take the bowl out to the courtyard and poured its contents under her favorite fig tree. Lying in bed again, I'd hear the water running. I presumed she was washing and drying the bowl, for it'd be in its proper place, and clean, the next morning. Applying my own concentration, I'd be nearly asleep - or apparently so - when she joined me in bed._

Marcus flipped through the printouts, trying to find the next entry in the series. The first one he found was dated only three days later.

_Her letters go back to the beginning,_ the journal continued... 

_She writes me of arguments in her parents' kitchen, standing with her hands on her hips, glaring at her brother. She knew he wasn't telling her everything - she knew him too well. But Algara couldn't begin to separate the truth from his lies from simple misdirection. _

_"You will do this, Algara. For the family," her brother had insisted, ignoring her angry posture. _

_Algara had shaken her head. "Charles and Marcus are my family now." _

_"You have a duty to the entire Marcul clan, not just to your family." By the way he had said the word, Algara told me, she knew it didn't include me. _

_Her brother had always known how to push her buttons. Algara might turn her back on me, and eventually on her brother, but she never could shirk her duty to the clan. _

Marcus frowned, confused, and remembered a long-forgotten night, when his mother had taken him to visit her family. It was shortly before his parents had divorced, he recalled. He'd stirred in his bed, awakened by something in the night. Had it been a dream? 

At first, he was too sleep-addled to understand what might have wakened him. His mind touched on the simplest things first, the things of the utmost importance to a seven-year-old boy. Giancarlo, such a pretentious name for a bedraggled teddy bear, huddled with him on the pillow. The nightlight on the opposite wall still glowed, a bright spot of security in the dark night. His stomach was a tiny bit queasy, but that might be from the chocolate milk he'd had right before going to bed. Mama had warned him that could happen before she had given in to his pleading for the treat. 

But it hadn't been an upset stomach that woke him. 

There were voices, loud voices, coming from the kitchen. He recognized Mama's voice and that of his uncle. They were shouting angrily at each other in a language Marcus didn't understand, although it sounded a little like the Italian Mama was teaching him when they went to the marketplace. Their voices rose high enough that Marcus hear individual words even though he didn't understand what they were saying. 

"Ignare!" shouted his uncle. 

"Amentis!" Mama retorted. 

"Stultissime!" 

"Impurae matris prolapsus ab alvo!" 

"Oblatratrix!" 

"Ferox raptor!" 

The knot in Marcus' stomach got a little harder. Dragging Giancarlo with him, he burrowed under the covers. The boy whispered his fear into the bear's ear until he fell asleep again. A single tear squeezed out between Marcus' lashes and slid down his cheek to be absorbed by the stuffed animal's worn fur. 

Giancarlo accepted it all with stoic good grace. 

Marcus set aside his memories of overheard arguments and returned to translating. 

_She had finally agreed,_ his father wrote, _to her brother's demands, after so many years of resisting. The fight had gone out of her. _

_Her brother had been overjoyed when she acknowledged defeat. Algara's letter mentioned she still recalled being repulsed at his smile, a faintly reptilian gesture on his otherwise human face. He'd told her that all she needed to do was prepare the boy for the later rituals, perform the purification spells, before it was too late. _

_Algara's letters assured me that she'd asked repeatedly that these rituals wouldn't hurt our son, and her brother's only reply was: "Would I harm my only nephew?" _

_I shudder, even now, at her recollection of her brother's non-answer. I know his ambitious nature, as did Algara. In her letter, she admitted that her intuition told her there was more than he said, but she agreed, out of responsibility to the clan. And her brother insisted that she not tell Marcus, or me, but her letters are clear that she never promised either way. She fully intended that our son never know - she would protect Marcus as well as she was able. _

_But she would tell me what her clan intended,_ the journal entry concluded, _in hopes that I could find a way to counteract the rituals, and protect Marcus in the meantime._

  
Talking Drum 

  


The floral scent of the bathroom soap on his hands seemed to grow stronger, expanding to form an invisible cloud around Simon's body as he walked down the hallway. As he passed the last room on the left, his knees locked and his vision blazed into white as if a firecracker had been ignited in his face. In the corner of his eye he saw movement, and with a concentrated effort, he turned his head to see Dawn's bedroom. He was immediately struck with searing pain, moving across his mid-section, enough to make him almost double over. 

_What the hell was that?_ Simon was puzzled, and realized he was holding his breath as the phantom pain subsided. From the stairwell, he heard a voice calling his name. 

"Simon? Simon!" 

_Snap out of it,_ he rebuked himself. 

"Earth to Simon," Dawn's voice solidified and became reality in his head. He winced with a twinge of pain, blinked, and quickly turned his head in her direction. 

"Woah. Where were you just then?" Dawn asked with a nervous laugh. 

"Sorry, total Zonezilla here. Back from the land of Dr. Mesmer now," Simon mumbled with a shake of his head and a relieved exhale. 

"Zonezilla. That's a new one," Dawn chuckled, relief in her voice. "You know there really was a Dr. Mesmer. That's where the word mesmer..." 

"I know," Simon cut her off. "I read, too, you know," he said indignantly. He sighed and shook his head, smiling apologetically. "Libraries are great all-day shelter when it rains." 

"Right. Well, dinner's ready," Dawn said. 

"You lead and I'll follow," Simon replied and followed her down the stairs. His memories of the waking dream were already fading, leaving only an uneasy feeling. 

  
Marie 

  


Xander had been unusually reticent while he helped Anya prepare their simple dinner of steak, baked potatoes and salad. She glanced across the table at him as they sat down to eat. 

"You've been very quiet. Worried about anything in particular?" 

"Oh, you know," he answered, "just the usual. Wolfy things that rip ya to bits when you least expect it, and can disappear like the proverbial smoke. That sorta thing...." 

"Mm-hmm. Salad dressing?" 

Xander nodded, and Anya passed him the bottle. She continued, "I think Marcus is okay. I wouldn't want to meet his cousins, but I like him...not like I like you – I love you. He seems nice enough, though." 

"Yeah." Xander nodded thoughtfully. "He seems okay, I guess." Reaching for his wine, he glanced at her curiously. "You never came across any of these Marcul demons?" 

"Xander, I told you that already." She eyed the level of wine in the bottle suspiciously. "Didn't you listen while I was talking on the way home? Or are you drunk? Alcohol kills brain cells. I read that in a magazine. And that's a very expensive bottle of wine – nine dollars and eight-three cents. Honestly, I remember when you could get a cask of wine for just a few groats. And don't even get me started on lettuce!" 

"An." 

"Gerbil food, but the prices are outrageous -" 

"Anya." 

"- And while I think about it, egg-plants!" 

"_Anya!_" 

"What?" 

Xander took a deep breath, and forced himself to relax and smile sweetly at Anya. "Forget about the price of groceries for one second, and tell me what you know about Marcul demons." 

"Well, there's no need to shout," she huffed, setting down her fork. "All you had to do was ask." 

Xander rolled his eyes, and decided not to argue the point. When she glanced at him again, he was smiling sweetly and attentively. Satisfied, Anya finished her bite of steak and continued. "I told you. I never came across any Marculs. Why are you so worried, anyway? I thought you said you liked Marcus." 

"I don't dislike him, it's just..." Xander shrugged. "I know he had a hard time growing up, hey – I know all about that. But it seems like we're finally back to normal around here, and all of a sudden here comes this guy and his wolfy cousins, ready to mess things all up again." 

"You're worried about Buffy?" Anya asked him, her face softening. 

"I guess. Yeah. I know we don't talk about it much, but An – she died. I just don't want it to even come close to that again... and...." 

"And?" 

"Well, it's not like I have proof there's something going on with Buffy and Marcus... just a gut instinct. And Spike doesn't trust him, either. I know, we're talking Spike, but still." 

"From what I saw, they were just posturing like most alpha males. And Buffy didn't seem to trust Marcus, either." Anya put down her fork and leaned over the table at Xander earnestly. "We should be more worried that they'll end up fighting." 

Xander groaned. "No, that's how we got into the whole mess with Spike. It's something about sex and fighting, and next thing you know, it'll be all hearts and orange blossoms." 

At Anya's raised brows, he grinned rather shamefacedly. "Don't mind me, hon' – just getting' it off my chest. For now, we'll just have to wait and see, I guess. Wish we knew more about these guys, though." 

Relieved, she smiled back at him. "Well, like I said, I've met a few similar types, in my time. Marcus called them a 'clan', didn't he? That type hunt in packs, but only two of his cousins are around. I wonder if there are any more in their hunting party, or if these two are the only ones. Haven't met many 'wolf' types, apart from Oz. Though, the Tia-lao demon, for instance, is quite lizardy, but not wolfy. Similar sort of tongue you said Doc had, but three-pronged..." she trailed to a halt at Xander's look of distaste. "Of course, they couldn't do what you can do with yours." Anya thought about that statement, and hastily amended it. "Not that I've ever dated a Tia-lao. I mean, eww." 

"An?" 

"What?" 

"Got an hour or so 'til patrolling." 

"Oh!" Anya smiled coyly as she folded up her napkin and laid it neatly next to her empty plate. "This time, can we do it on the kitchen countertop?" 

  
Purplegrrl 

  


Giles handed Marcus the last of the translated pages. "I believe this was meant for you," he said gently. 

The young man took the proffered pages and began to read. 

> _ My dearest Marcus, _
> 
> I blame myself for what has happened to you. Perhaps if I had remained married to your mother or maintained a more active role in your life, things would not have gone down the path they have. Love and other interests blinded me to Algara's intentions for you. When she finally told me of what had happened, she was already dying, and I could do little more than document what I knew of the necessary rituals and speculate on ways to reverse this dreadful chain of events. 
> 
> In short, the vessel that has been created and filled must now be emptied, and perhaps even broken, before all things can be put right again. Forgive me, Marcus. Putting an end to this abomination may require your death. If you are the man I think you are, you will accept this sacrifice as the only way to destroy what your mother's family intended. 
> 
> I loved your mother, Marcus. But she changed after you were born. First in subtle ways and then more dramatically. I divorced her, thinking of it merely as another of my failed relationships. Only later did I fully realize what she intended for you, my dear son. 
> 
> I could not allow what she planned, but neither could I reveal what I had learned. Secretly, I began researching the divination ceremonies she had performed on you as a child. She considered your potential both frightening and encouraging. I realized that in the end, you must willingly submit to being the catalyst for her designs. 
> 
> During the school holidays you spent with me, I encouraged your free will and independent thinking. At night when you were asleep, I performed every ritual I could find or devise that might impede her family's progress or block it entirely. 
> 
> When you have reached your twenty-fifth year, you will be at your most vulnerable. Unlike you, no Slayer in history has lived beyond the age of twenty-five. This may be what will allow the last door of your mother's scheme to open. I beg of you, Marcus, do not walk through that door. 
> 
> I pray that the notes and rituals I have included in these diaries will aid you. Perhaps even to reverse the transformation process... because if you have found these, it means that I failed. If that's true, I pray that you will succeed where I could not. 
> 
> Know that I have always loved you, believed in you. 
> 
> Your father,  
Charles Siefer

The lines on the pages blurred as Marcus' eyes filled with tears at his father's final words to him. He wiped at his eyes, angry at himself for showing emotion and angrier still that he'd never realized his father had known for so long. After a second, Marcus gave up, and just let the tears come. 

  


_[~ continue to next chapter ~][1]_

   [1]: 16-12.htm



	17. Chapter 16

dark alchemy : part III - Conjunction : Chapter Sixteen

  
**

chapter sixteen

**

Lady Starlight 

"More salad, Simon?" Buffy held the bowl up. 

"No thanks, I'm full." 

Buffy put the bowl down beside her and mentally calculated how much he'd eaten. _Yah, _she thought, _you must be full. Dawn was right, you haven't been eating well._

Simon got up from the table and started collecting the dirty dishes. 

"Simon, no," Dawn protested. "You're the guest, you shouldn't have to help." 

"Try and stop me," he teased. "I'll wash, you dry – but first, I'll be back in a minute." He smiled at Dawn before heading up the stairs. 

Dawn used the closing of the bathroom door as an excuse to launch into a flurry of words. "Buffy, please can he stay here tonight? He's staying in a skanky motel, rats and everything, and I think he could use a good night's sleep, please, Buffy, I promise I won't do anything bad, we'll just watch movies or something, maybe have snacks later and I really like him so please can he?" 

"Breathe," Buffy ordered, then smiled. "He can stay, for tonight, anyway." 

Dawn bit her lip to keep from dancing in happiness right as Simon stepped into the kitchen. Dawn promptly blushed, opening her eyes wide at Buffy in nervous excitement. 

"Ok, if you guys finish clearing the table and wash everything, I'll dry," Buffy offered. Leaving them to the major clean-up, she wandered into the living room and sat down on the couch. She could hear splashing sounds and laughter coming from the kitchen. _Just a little rest before I go out on patrol,_ she thought, and closed her eyes. About ten minutes later, she heard the creak of the hallway floorboard and was instantly attentive, but kept her eyes closed. 

"Is she asleep?" Simon's voice was quietly respectful. 

"Think so. Watch this." 

"Oh, I don't think you should..." 

Buffy's hand shot up and grabbed Dawn's wrist before she could drop the wet sponge on Buffy's face. "Do you really want to do this?" she asked in a deceptively mild-manned tone. "Or would you prefer being able to go outside by yourself for the foreseeable future?" 

"That last part sounds good." Dawn's voice was laced with laughter. 

Buffy opened her eyes and grinned at Dawn. "Thought so." She stood up, stretching. "Sit down, you two. My turn in the kitchen." 

  
Bess 

  
As Buffy headed to the kitchen, Dawn plunked down on the sofa. "Wanna watch TV," she asked Simon as casually as possible, and shrugged down into the couch cushions. _Let him sit next to me. I'll clean my room tomorrow. Twice. Just let him sit down next to me._

Simon shook his head. "Dinner was really great, but... it's almost nine. I should get going..." he let the sentence trail off. Not that he really wanted to leave, anyway. 

"Don't even look at my door," Buffy hollered from the kitchen. A cabinet door slammed shut for emphasis, and Dawn shot Simon a victorious look. 

"Told you so." 

He seemed for a moment ready to say something, but it just didn't come out. He gave Dawn a lopsided grin of his own. "Guess it's final, huh? I'll bet not many people can argue with her." 

"You think I'm tough, Dawn's got it down to an art." Buffy called from the other room. Dawn aimed a silent raspberry in her direction. 

"We have our moments," Dawn replied to Simon, recovering. "Wanna sit down?" she patted the seat beside her. "You're sleeping here tonight, might as well give it a preview sit first. Wouldn't want to rush into anything." 

"Oh, yeah." He raised an eyebrow in mock-seriousness. "Couches, they're tricky to pin down. But first impressions are usually accurate." He sat down next to her. "This couch in particular," he added, fixing his eyes on hers, "seems really nice." Dawn coughed, and flipped the channel. 

"So. You, uh, like peas? Cause you really wolfed 'em down." 

"Definitely. Peas could be their own food group." 

"Buffy's cooking is getting better. A lot better than..." she remembered Spike, in sadder times, swearing furiously at a box of Easy Mac. "A lot better than some other people's cooking." No reason to name names. 

"Something happened to her, didn't it? And you, too." He glanced around the room. "I've never seen anybody get so excited over making ravioli." 

"We're just really glad to be doing... normal... things again." 

He laughed. 

"Was that funny?" 

"No, it's just... you know what's really silly?" 

"What?" 

"Normal was the last thing I expected. I guess I half-expected there to be some kind of burst of light, or some danger that she'd swing me away from on a rope, or... you know, an explosion or something. Instead I get ravioli, and 'where do you go to school?' It's kind of..." 

"Disappointing?" she interjected. 

"I was going to say cool." He picked up a photo of the two of them together, at the beach. He knew without asking what it meant. Good memories. 

"I don't have anything like you two have. It's special, you know? I think I've been looking for that more than anything else." This reminded him of something, and he sniffed at his shirt cautiously. "Speaking of that," he said sheepishly, "I should be looking for a laundry machine right now." 

Dawn sighed, relieved. "I was afraid I'd have to tell you... oh. I didn't mean it that way." 

"It's okay. It's hard to keep clean when you're travelling. I'm lucky I got let in your house at all tonight." 

"If you need a change, I'm sure we can find something..." 

Buffy watched them go down to the basement, Simon hesitant as he followed Dawn, his backpack in hand.

_Kid's got 'shy' written across his forehead in indelible ink, but he and Dawn really seem to be hitting it off._ She pictured him during the dinner, sneaking a fingertip-touch with Dawn as they passed the salad around. _So much like Dawn,_ she mused. _So very much like Dawn._

  
Lady Starlight 

  


When Dawn returned, Buffy was waiting in the foyer. "You realize," she asked Dawn quietly, "that if Spike finds out - chip or no chip - there's not going to be much left of your boyfriend?" 

"He's not my boyfriend!" Dawn stopped, and gave her sister a bashful smile. "Yet." 

Buffy raised her eyebrows. "You promise that nothing, and I mean nothing, will happen?" 

Dawn flung herself on Buffy, squealing "Crossmyheartandhopetodie!" 

"Ooff! Back off, already." 

Dawn released Buffy from the hug. "You'll talk to Spike, right? Tell him _no_ grrr." 

"No grrr." Buffy grabbed her jacket. "But he'll probably want to drill you in self-defense for the next couple of months. Don't eat all the ice cream before I get back, all right?" 

Dawn watched Buffy go out the door, then ran up the stairs to get sheets for the sofa bed. 

  
Liquidram 

  


Aeralyus had a pounding headache. Talia was asleep, finally, and he was restless. Tiptoeing from the room, he padded down the hall and out of the hotel. 

The night was warm and clear. Recalling the various hellmouth natives, Aeralyus cautiously sniffed the air and was surprised when he could only pick up a bare trace of his younger cousin. He had fully intended to honor his promise to give Marcus time to sort out his priorities by keeping Talia away, but he didn't count on the truce needing to last long. _Nor,_ he reminded himself, _did that mean that I won't keep tabs on the boy._ The injury Aeralyus had inflicted, although painful, should have been a way to keep Marcus handy for easy retrieval when the time came. Aeralyus continued to cast about for a more recent energy trail. 

He entered a cluster of trees at the outskirts of a town cemetery, and shuddered abruptly. _Here's a recent trail,_ he realized, but something wasn't right about it. It was Marcus' essence, and stronger, _but it's somehow..... feminine._ Aeralyus' defenses sprang to life. Moving swiftly through the trees, he was caught off-guard by the sudden appearance of a young woman a few feet to his left walking slowly, oblivious to her surroundings, and apparently in deep conversation with person or persons unknown. 

Buffy raised her head and taking a quick glance around. _Did I do the right thing, Mom,_she asked silently._ It's not that I think he's dangerous, but I just wasn't up for more of her sulking like I'm trying to ruin her life. And thing is, I like him, too. He's a good person. But Dawn's only fifteen!_

"Do you mind?" This statement was punctuated by a flying roundhouse kick, knocking down one of the creatures that had been quietly stalking her. "I'm in the middle of thinking hard, and you're not making it any easier." She yanked something from the back pocket of her pants, made a stabbing motion, and the creature disappeared in a cloud of dust. She effortlessly spun around and quickly dispatched a second vampire before it knew what had hit it. Buffy flipped her old friend Mr. Pointy around in her hand and sheathed the stake back into her waistband smoothly. 

Aeralyus was impressed, and confused. _ A Slayer, covered with Marcus' scent. Things are getting more interesting by the minute._ He followed her trail down the unfamiliar path. 

The Slayer strode off, clearly preoccupied. _And you should see Spike,_ she thought as she continued her silent letter to her mother. _Mr. We've Gotta Do This and We've Gotta Tell Her That! I don't know what is worse. Sulky Love You Summers Spike or the new improved Mr. Reliable Guy. And I'm liking him around. I know, shocking you much? It's not so bad. He's crazy about Dawn, but not crazy, like before. The one hundred 'n twenty years of experience would be a plus if it wasn't a hundred 'n eighteen years of -_

There was a sudden strong _crack,_ like a tree branch breaking, and Aeralyus realized suddenly that the woods had fallen completely silent. He couldn't hear the girl's footsteps in front of him, and the path was deserted. He felt a momentary pang at losing track of her when she stepped from the cover of the bush directly before him. 

"Hey, Stalky Boy. You're cute. New in town?" She was holding a solid looking staff, about five feet long. Its end was only an inch from his chest. 

Startled, he felt a grudging respect for her ability to surprise a seasoned hunter like himself. Keeping his voice level, and acutely aware of the weapon leveled at him, he said, "I'm only passing through." 

"Hunh." She didn't move. "Another Brit. Tourist season's over, Prince Charles." 

"I'm not leaving until I find Marcus." 

"A family reunion?" She opened her eyes wide, mocking him. "Where's your potato salad?" 

Aeralyus growled and knocked the staff away from his chest with his left hand. 

  
Chemicalram 

  
"Opening move number seven," she observed dryly. Aeralyus growled deep in this throat, irritated at her impudence, and she rolled her eyes as she pivoted on her heel. She brought the staff around again, this time measuring the distance of the weapon versus his dodging space. As she had guessed, he wasn't threatened. He moved his head back so the staff grazed by, missing him completely. At the last second she quickly slid her hand along the shaft, letting the weight of the weapon shift across her palm, extending the range of threat. 

The staff - now extending a third more distance than before - made a satisfying _thwap_ sound as it cuffed Aeralyus' left cheek. Buffy gave a small snicker as the man jumped forward, shifting past the staff to retaliate with a swift punch. A short burst of pain radiated from her cheek, and she was back on guard. 

Aeralyus assumed she'd recoil from the attack, and went low in preparation. He brought his right foot out and around to sweep her off her feet, but she jumped to escape the sidesweep. As she jumped, she brought the staff overhead to crack onto his shoulder, sending him to his knees. She landed as Aeralyus sprang upwards, reaching with a far-flung backhand. 

She blocked the punch smoothly, and Aeralyus swung a second time. Buffy retreated another step and squatted low. He was still on his toes as her staff lanced out around the back of Aeralyus' leg, catching him behind his kneecap. Buffy pulled the staff upward and towards herself, pulling his leg out from under him. Aeralyus fell backwards. Buffy uncoiled herself and spun the bow over once as she brought it down again, hitting him in the chest, sending him to the ground. 

  
Liquidram 

  
Aeralyus looked up at the girl standing over him, her staff pointed at his throat. He held up his hands, and she backed off a step but didn't lower the staff. Slowly he rose to his feet, surprised to find that he stood a full head taller than her. "I can smell him on you and see him in you. This isn't your battle, Slayer." 

"You're unclear on the concept." She hefted the staff with one hand before tightening her grip. "I've made it mine." She shifted her weight to her back leg, and Aeralyus read the signal clearly. He bowed, a curt formal nod, and stepped back a half-pace. 

Xander spit blood out of his mouth and gingerly touched his lip just as Spike slammed the stake into the back of the vampire reaching for his throat. He coughed in the dust shower that followed. 

With a simple thanks, he accepted the hand offered and got to his feet. Exhausted, the two walked across the graveyard. Xander was about to comment on the sad state of the vampire population that night but choked back his words. 

Not more than sixty paces from them was Buffy - and she was holding a tree branch pointed at someone's chest. Xander couldn't be sure in the dark, but it seemed as though the stranger had bowed. _The same peculiar little head-nod bow that Marcus gave us,_ he noted. 

Xander touched Spike lightly on the sleeve of his coat, put his fingers to his lips and pointed. Spike started to pull away despite Xander's warning, but halted, and Xander furrowed his brow at the vampire. 

"Consider yourself warned, Slayer." Aeralyus relaxed, allowing the gradual shift to overcome him as he prepared to spring away from the Slayer. "Shelter the beast and you will die by the beast." All pretence of humanity vanished as his dark wolven shape flickered in front of her, then disappeared into the woods. 

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Why do you guys always have to get the last word?" 

Spike turned to Xander, a look of disbelief on his face. "Well, well." Spike regarded the pair, his brows furrowed. "I do believe one of Marcus's loving relatives has come calling." 

The two didn't move to intercept Buffy until she was almost upon them. She said nothing as they approached, and several moments passed in utter silence as the trio walked out of the graveyard. They had walked for sometime before Buffy threw the staff away and broke the silence. 

"I could have used the two of you a little earlier," she told them with no malice. "He looked human, but he was one of those things chasing Marcus. That was the one who hurt him. He could tell I know where Marcus is. How?" 

Spike shrugged. "Obviously he can track Marcus' scent. I was able to sense the blood last night and it led me straight to Giles' place." 

"What did he say?" Xander asked her. 

"The usual posturing. You're gonna lose, you've been warned, we'll meet again. Another graduate of the correspondence course for being a Bad Guy." 

They continued on their way, each wrapped in their own thoughts. At Giles' apartment, the door opened almost before Buffy had finished knocking. 

"Buffy." Giles had his coat on already. "Marcus is inside." 

"Good." She squared her shoulders. "It's time he and I had a little chat." 

"Yes, good idea," Giles demurred, then turned to Spike and Xander. "I think we could all stand some down time. You two up for tipping a few?" Both men nodded, and Giles smiled grimly. They began to tell him, in hushed whispers, of the latest events as they started for the local bar. 

Buffy let herself in. 

  
Talking Drum 

  


Dawn lifted one end of the folded blanket to make the sofa bed, and Simon quickly reached over and grabbed an edge from the other side of the bed. A brief struggle ensued when Simon refused to let go of his half. 

"Let me" - she tugged her end - "have it," Dawn grunted, and tugged again. "It's my _duty_ as your _host_ to _make_ you feel _welcome_!" Her words were punctuated with emphatic tugs on the blanket. 

Simon responded with some tugs of his own. "But I _am_ helping," he teased. He pulled sharply at the blanket, and she hopped once towards the edge of the bed before digging her heels into the floor. Dawn yanked back with all her might, and Simon leaned back with equal force. Abruptly Dawn tilted her head and smiled as she let go. Simon went flying into a backwards half somersault and hit the floor with a dull thud. 

"I'm sorry," Dawn cried, raising her hand to cover her mouth as she giggled uncontrollably. "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah, yeah," he replied, pulling himself off the floor and rubbing the back of his head. Simon's hair was sticking up in the back, his face was flushed and his shirt was untucked on one side. The waistband of his boxer shorts was showing above the belt line of his jeans and it caught Dawn's wide-eyed gaze. She was still staring when Simon realized what she was looking at and tucked his shirt back in. 

"Ooh," Dawn breathed as she blushed, doing her best to cover her all too obvious interest in Simon's boxers. 

"You think you'd never seen underwear before," Simon shook his head. 

"Oh, I've seen a lot of things," Dawn said in her best attempt to affect an older, more Buffy-like, attitude. 

"Oh, yeah? Like what?" Simon was skeptical. 

"Oh... just things," she replied, wriggling her eyebrows at him knowingly. 

"Yeah, I could tell from the first time I saw you that you were a real woman of the world," Simon said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. 

"I am," Dawn insisted. "I saw Kids." 

"Really," Simon was unimpressed, unconvinced, and looking at her doubtfully from the corner of his eyes. 

"Well no, not actually." Dawn backed down, but only a little bit. "My friends told me about it...so I know stuff." Her voice trailed off, and there was a moment of silence as she stared at Simon across the bed, absorbed in thinking how cute he had looked, so disheveled, a moment before. 

Simon broke the silence. "Well, if it's okay with you, I'm gonna finish making the bed and lapse into a very welcome state of unconsciousness." 

Dawn didn't move, lost in her previous thoughts. 

"Unless you would like to see more of my boxers..." Simon waggled his hips in a jokingly suave manner. 

"Yeah. I mean – no." Dawn giggled, snapping out of her day dreamy daze and half-skipped towards the hallway. She paused in the doorway. "If you need anything," and she motioned to the stairs, "I'm right up there." As she disappeared up the dark stairwell, he heard her giggle and whisper a giddy goodnight. 

Simon finished making his bed, removed his shirt, jeans and socks and fell backwards onto the mattress. 

  
Solitude1056 

  


The living room was empty, but Buffy could hear running water in the bathroom. Leaning against the table, she folded her arms and waited. A minute went by, and Marcus didn't appear. She paced around the table, then around the sofa, and back around the table. The water was still running. _He's as bad as Dawn._ She made a face, exasperated, trotting across the living room to tap smartly on the bathroom door. 

"You in there?" she hollered. _Ok, that was a stupid question,_ she thought. 

"Yeah." 

The water shut off. Buffy could hear something rustling. "You okay?" 

"Fine," Marcus replied as he opened the bathroom door. The hair around his face was damp, and his shirt clung to him as if he'd dressed without drying off completely. He wiped his face with a towel and hung it over the bar before stepping into the hallway. "That bloody oil was driving me nuts." 

Buffy found herself smiling as she looked up at him, her hands on her hips. Startled, she realized he wasn't much taller than Xander or Giles. Marcus gazed back at her, and then glanced past her to the living room. 

"Giles left already?" 

Buffy nodded, and didn't move. 

"Is it my turn to ask if you're okay?" Marcus peered at her, one eyebrow cocked. His gaze flickered quickly to the bruise on her cheek, already fading. 

"Hunh?" 

"You look... unsettled." 

"I am, I mean, I do?" Buffy shook herself a little, then frowned. Her skin was crawling from the energy emanating from him. She wondered idly, _if I touch him will I get shocked from the static electricity?_

The Slayer still hadn't moved, and Marcus wasn't sure he wanted to shove past her to get to the living room. He inhaled, and abruptly froze, then purposefully leaned towards her and inhaled again. That scent... 

Buffy noticed the almost imperceptible change in his face, and stiffened. _Two guys sniffing me in one night,_ she thought. _I'm officially creeped._

"My cousin," Marcus said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You've been with him." 

"With him?" Buffy stepped back, caught off-guard. "Well," she added self-consciously, "not in the biblical sense." 

Marcus shot her a surprised look. 

"Uh," she tried again, "yeah. I mean, no. I mean, that's what I want to talk to you about." _God, I must sound like a total imbecile._

"Shall we sit?" Marcus pointedly looked past her to the sofa. Buffy realized she'd been blocking him in the hallway for several minutes, and backed up, frowning to cover her embarrassment. Instead of following her to the sofa, however, he headed into the kitchen. 

"Would you like some tea," he called to her. 

"Please," she answered, and seated herself in the wingback chair to watch him as he set up the kettle to boil and got out the mugs. She'd spent the day avoiding him, she knew, and she wondered why it didn't seem to bother him. _Then again, it's not like he's had the best day,_ she thought. 

She perched on the edge of the chair and watched his graceful, efficient moves. _It's like he's absorbed everything, knows where everything is, and he's only been here..._ it was then that she become conscious of the fact that she'd not seen Marcus show any sign of pain. Pursing her lips, she watched for a few more seconds before deciding it was true. _Either he's covering better... or it doesn't hurt anymore,_ she reflected. 

He returned to the living room, bringing a tray with him. 

"Cookies, too?" Buffy noticed the plate and nearly clapped her hands before remembering this wasn't Giles. 

Marcus smiled and handed her a mug. "Reminds me of university," he explained, sinking his lean frame onto the sofa. He stretched his legs out under the coffee table and crossed his ankles as she fixed her tea to her liking and took a cookie. 

"You're..." Buffy searched for the right words. "You're feeling better?" She glanced at his chest. 

"Mm-hm," he replied, sipping his tea. 

"So you got speedy Slayer healing, too." 

Marcus raised his eyebrows at her over the cup's rim. When he lowered the mug, his expression was confused. "Speedy what?" 

"Slayer healing. Part of the package. Reflexes, vamp-radar, speedy healing." 

He shook his head. "Nope, no Slayer healing. This was... this didn't have anything to do with that." 

"It didn't?" 

"No." He leaned forward and placed the cup on the table, and sat back again, his hands relaxed in his lap as he smiled lazily at her. "It's the demon part. And water." 

"Water?" Buffy narrowed her eyes. 

"That's right. It's a way of using water as a healing agent." 

"Oh." 

Marcus poured himself another cup of tea as she got up and began pacing back and forth in front of the coffee table while she thought. Marcus watched her silently. Finally she turned, her hands on her hips as she regarded him. 

"Your cousin likes a fight," she said. "But he's not very original. The usual big bad talk. The only thing he left out was the maniacal laughter." 

Marcus smirked. "He's an arrogant bastard. I worshipped him for years as my hero, before I realized he's -" Marcus made a rueful face and shrugged. Buffy found herself smiling wryly back at him, and returned to her original seat, picking up a cookie. "He's hard to beat," Marcus continued, "and I never managed it. He's got more than a few years on me." 

"How many?" Buffy was surprised. The man hadn't looked but a few years older than Marcus. 

"He's fifty-three." 

Buffy nearly dropped the cookie. "He's what?" she finally choked out. 

Marcus' grin creased his eyes at her shock. "Yeah. I told you, the demon part lives a long time. My mother was forty-nine when I was born, and she married young. More demon, longer life, but less endurance. More human, shorter life, fewer demon abilities." 

"Hunh," she said, and bit down on her cookie. Swallowing, she continued, "looks like the gang's decided to help you. I don't know the magickal part of it, but I do know that no one's found any references to these March ghouls." 

"Marculs," he corrected her, but without offense. She made a face at him and grabbed another cookie. 

"Marculs, okay," she replied. "Any idea what your family's plans are, next? We know that..." Buffy's voice trailed off as she realized Marcus' smile had disappeared. He bit his lip, and flicked his gaze to her, staring for a few moments so intently that she almost shrank back. His gray eyes bored into her, his blank expression scaring more than she was willing to admit. 

"Not much choice, either way," he finally said, and shrugged. "If I finish the transformation, I probably won't survive the ritual after everything... I've been through already, according to what we found today. If Giles and your friends can figure out the reversal, we can try it. But there's a good chance I won't survive that, either." 

"A good chance?" 

"If you count 'pretty certain' as a good chance." 

"I see." Buffy stared at her cookie for a second before biting into it again. 

"Given the choice, I'd rather live. The only way to do that, though, is to find a way that I don't have to do either ritual. But that means being a walking target... I'm not sure if my selfish wish to live is reason enough to keep the Slayer's line in danger." 

Buffy nodded. Marcus glanced at her, surprised to see her eyes sad as she watched him. He gave her a quizzical look, and smiled to break the mood. "There is one thing, we could do, if you wanted." 

"What's that?" 

"Fight." 

"Do what?" 

"You want to know how to beat my cousins? I can show you. Fight _me._" 

Buffy raised her eyebrows, skeptical. Marcus put down his cup, and stood. She sat, reveling in his lithe feline grace, completely forgetting herself. One eyebrow cocked, he smiled down at her, then reached down and took her by the hand. Buffy's head spun. The power suddenly flooding her system was almost unbearable, and she felt like a hundred needles were dancing on her skin, each one on fire. 

Then she was standing, and Marcus had let go of her hand, to look at her closely. His face was flushed and his pupils were dilated to the point that she could only see the faintest hint of gray at the edges. 

"This is yours," he whispered. "I never knew, I never thought to ask. But now I know, I can't go back. This energy, this should have been yours. Yours and all the other Slayers." 

"It's mine already," she replied softly. 

He caught her meaning before she even recognized it herself. "The other Slayers," he added gently. 

She thought of the others she'd known, for a second. She closed her eyes against the memories, and braced herself. Opening her eyes, Buffy looked up at Marcus. "Okay, then, we fight. Come with me, we'll go to the training room." 

"The training room?" Marcus glanced around the apartment, surprised, and she grinned. 

"At the Magic Box. We won't be interrupted, and we won't risk breaking Giles' stuff." 

"His stuff?" Marcus snorted. "You sure he wouldn't be more upset about his books being touched?" 

Buffy grinned. "Yeah. He would." 

  


_[~ continue to next chapter ~][1]_

   [1]: 17-12.htm



	18. Chapter 17

dark alchemy : part III - Conjunction : Chapter Seventeen

  
**

chapter seventeen

**

Purplegrrl 

The waitress plunked a pitcher of beer on the table, along with three glasses that didn't appear to have seen a real dishwasher in some time. Frowning slightly at the glass, Giles poured the chilled beer and handed the glasses around. 

"Maybe we should get something to munch on," Spike suggested. "I'm feeling a bit peckish." 

Xander scooted his chair a tiny bit closer to Giles before replying, "You buying, Peroxide Boy?" 

Spike gave the two men his best wounded look. "It's not like I've got a bleedin' job." 

"Hey," Xander started. 

Giles held up a hand to stave off the inevitable bickering. "Xander, why don't you go and order something. We'll split the tab when it comes. Three ways." Spike opened his mouth to protest. And shut it again when Giles fixed him with a glare. 

"Right," replied Xander as he headed over to the bar to place their order. 

"How do you figure on reversing the transference rituals?" Spike asked the ex-Watcher as soon as Xander was out of earshot. 

"I've developed a theory. I think if we use the opposing herbs and symbols, invert the incantations, and so forth, we could reverse the transference and return the energy to the Slayer line. With Willow and Tara's help, of course." 

"You _think_ it could work?" retorted Spike incredulously. He shook his head and continued in a more subdued, but equally urgent tone. "What is all this going to do to the Slayer? She's been through enough..." 

Giles stared at the blonde vampire. Despite his bluster and swagger, despite his unorthodox way of showing his obsession-cum-affection, Spike truly cared for Buffy. Not that Giles would ever admit to the Slayer - or her vampire defender - that he recognized this. 

"Buffy will be fine," Giles reassured him. "Marcus' family was subverting the energy that calls the next Slayer, not Buffy's energy." Spike tried to keep the relief from showing in his face, but he wasn't completely successful. 

"Not much of a menu, so I ordered ultimate nachos," Xander announced as he slouched into his chair and took a sip of his beer. Spike poured himself another beer. 

"That's fine, Xander," Giles said automatically. 

"So, do you think we can keep Marcus' cousins from completing the ritual with him?" asked Xander, unknowingly echoing Spike's question. 

"Giles has a theory," the vampire told him, a little sadly. 

The former Watcher let Spike's honest tone pass without comment. They were all tired, and worried. Even though he had assured Spike that Buffy was in no danger, even if the transference ritual was completed, Giles had a niggling doubt. _What if there was a danger to Buffy? What if she died... again?_ He shuddered as he took a long swallow of beer. 

"I do think we can reverse the rituals, thereby negating any claim the Marcul clan has on Marcus," Giles answered finally. "One thing is for sure. We can't allow Marcus' cousins to get hold of him again. If they succeed in binding the Slayer energy to Marcus, then Buffy and Faith could very well be the last Slayers the world will ever know." 

While the three of them were mulling over this disturbing thought, the waitress brought their platter of nachos. Spike didn't complain as he bit into a nacho, his face as forlorn and pensive as the two with him. 

  
Solitude1056 

  


Buffy unlocked the door and reached around to click on the lights, letting Marcus enter first. She heard him whistle as he looked around at the training space, and she allowed herself a small smile of pride. She turned to see him standing in the middle, regarding the wide space as he removed his jacket. Catching her look, he nodded at her before bending down to untie his bootlaces and strip off his socks. 

"This'll do," he said. "One thing, though." 

"What's that?" She took off her jacket it and hung it on a back peg, taking a hair band out of the pocket and pulling back her hair. Crouching, she began untying her shoelaces. 

"Don't break any bones, okay?" 

"There's a shower here." Buffy noticed Marcus' hesitation and added nonchalantly, "What, don't think I'm strong enough to help?" She realized what she'd said, and hid her face, hoping he didn't notice the blush. She placed her sneakers and socks neatly on the floor under her jacket, taking her time to allow herself to recover. 

"I'm sure you are," he said, and laughed, enjoying her unexpected response. "Water only works on healing cuts, not mending bones." _So there is a girl under the warrior,_ he added silently, bemused. 

"Gotcha. No breakage for me, either, while we're discussing it." 

He nodded, and she noticed him relax his posture slightly, shifting his weight. His arms hung loosely. She stepped forward to face him from about five feet away. He studied her for a second, and then narrowed his eyes. "When you fought my cousin, was he alone?" 

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Yeah. He talked big enough for two, but there was just one of him." 

"Talia must still be recovering," Marcus muttered, half to himself. Buffy gave him a quizzical look. "Talia and Aeralyus are my cousins. They usually hunt as a pair. If you only saw Ari, the shove was stronger than I realized." 

"Shove?" 

"Yesterday." Marcus gave her an innocent smile. "That magickal shove hit my cousins full-on." 

"Nifty how that worked out." Buffy grinned back, and shifted her weight. 

"One other thing: how did he... appear?" 

"Appear?" Buffy furrowed her brows. "Like, uh, a guy who's fighting." 

"Human, you mean?" 

"Yeah. Two legs, two arms, the usual." Buffy pivoted slightly to keep Marcus in sight as he slowly circled her. 

"Perfect. The idiot underestimated you." Marcus grinned wickedly. 

"What do you mean?" 

"He's used to wrestling me. We did that a lot when I was younger, so he's probably figuring your strength and mine should be equal." Marcus' left fist shot out suddenly in a backhand punch and Buffy easily blocked it. 

"You think we're not." Buffy countered with an undercut jab and Marcus stopped the move without looking away from her face. 

"I don't know yet." Marcus twisted his weight to his back leg, bringing his right fist up as he punched with the left, ducking at the last second to catch Buffy in the stomach. She jumped back just in time, and Marcus grinned wickedly as he rose back to his full height. "We'll see." 

  
Chemicalram 

  


Buffy attacked slowly, throwing an easy to block punch towards Marcus's kidney, having to duck low to do so. He saw the attack as she wanted him to, slow and easy to block. His left arm shot out, parrying hers away, the force sending her lightly to one side. She smiled at him as he took the bait. 

"You're as predictable as your cousin." She placed the parried hand firmly on the ground supporting herself. Leaning heavily on the arm in a half handstand, she brought both feet up to kick him in the chest. He just barely caught one foot. The other slammed heavily into his chin, a brief moment of white pain shooting through his head. 

His head snapped back forward, and he grinned. 

"Nice," he said with a chuckle. Rotating his wrist and the foot he still held, he twisted her off balance. A light flick of his wrist sent her feet over her head, the handstand now reversed into a flip. 

Landing roughly on the ground, Buffy had no time to dodge his attack, frozen in expectation. His hand came down, punching her in the stomach. The wind knocked out of her, Buffy forced herself to her feet as Marcus backed away. She hid her discomfort in a defensive stance. 

"Are we even?" Marcus smiled smugly 

  
Humanitas 

  
Buffy's face set in a hard mask as she launched herself at him. She shot her left hand out towards his face. A little surprised by her fast recovery, he brought up a hand to block the blow. She dropped almost to one knee, sweeping his feet out from under him with her other leg. 

"Oh, sh-!" The end of his expletive was lost in the exhalation as he hit the floor, hard. He shook his head to clear the spots from his vision and found himself looking up into her face. She was straddling his chest. He instinctively put his hands on her calves, braced. 

"You tell me," she said. 

"Well," he said sheepishly, "you certainly can handle Ari's style. He's a bit of a boxer." 

"Are you okay? You seem a little out of breath." Buffy's face registered concern. 

"I'm alright," he gasped, "it's just a little hard to breathe with you sitting there." _Doesn't mean I'm not enjoying it, _he thought. 

"Oh. Sorry." Buffy started to rise, and Marcus kicked himself into a sitting position, knocking her backwards. 

"Hey!" Buffy's voice was indignant. 

He shrugged. "Talia's sneakier." 

They both scrambled to their feet, warily staring at each other. 

"Sneakier, huh?" Buffy aimed a roundhouse at his head. This time, instead of blocking it, he leaned back slightly, avoiding the blow, and grabbed her wrist as it passed. He pulled her forward, adding to her own momentum, and sent a vicious kick into her side. 

"Yeah." 

Buffy rolled with the force of his kick, came to her feet and turned, expecting him to press his advantage. Sure enough, he moved in close, wrapping his leg around hers and his arm around her midriff. Marcus shifted his weight, getting it low enough to throw her to the ground. Buffy grabbed his wrist and twisted it backwards, turning his arm up behind his back. He barely managed to bite back a yelp of pain before she'd set her heel into his instep. She pulled him across her body, dropping him yet again to the floor. He started to rise, and she kicked him in the belly, sending him spinning onto his back. 

"I can be sneaky, too." 

"Mmmmfff. I see that." He looked at her from his position on the floor. _ Damn. Her ex-lovers must fear for their lives._ Aloud, he said, "You're good, I'll give you that." 

"Thanks," she replied. _I think I kicked him a little too hard that last time._ "I didn't break anything, did I?" She kneeled down by him, feeling along his ribs. "Coz we did say we wouldn't." 

He winced at her touch. "No, I don't think there's anything broken. I'd definitely wager on bruised, though." He sat up. "Now, I know I didn't hurt you much," he said, smiling, their faces close together. 

"No. Well, maybe some." She rubbed her ribs where he'd kicked her. "Surprised me, a little, though." 

"Yeah, my family's full of those. Surprises, I mean." 

"Yeah." Buffy withdrew, suddenly shy. "Thirsty?" 

  
Solitude1056 

  


Giles had returned from the bar to discover Marcus' jacket was gone, and Buffy had left a scrawled note sitting on top of a stack of books on the kitchen pass-through. Rubbing his eyes as he read it a second time, he wondered vaguely what had possessed the two young people to head to the Magic Box. Buffy hadn't included too many details, but he figured he could guess they were sparring. Sighing, he put down the note and made himself a cup of tea. 

Settling comfortably in the easy chair, he pondered for a few minutes before realizing he wasn't nearly as tired as he'd first thought. His brain was spinning in too many circles, with the final ritual nearly translated. Finally, he got up and crossed to the table where his notes were spread out. _Get back to work_, he told himself, _and finish this. Then I'll sleep._

Slowly Marcus stood up. Buffy stepped back to give he room as she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. He grinned at her. 

"You were holding back," he stated. Buffy shot him a disgruntled look and he shrugged. "I was." 

Buffy started to frown, then grinned, recognizing herself in that statement. "Okay, yeah, a bit." 

"Alright, then." He put his hands to his jaw, expertly feeling along the jaw line before stretching his neck. "So, how many bruises have I got?" 

She regarded him carefully. "Not many. Yet." 

"Yet." He laughed. 

Buffy trotted across the training room, pulling off her shirt to reveal a tank-top underneath. Bending down, she pulled a water bottle out of a small refrigerator and drank nearly half of it in one gulp before handing it to Marcus. He accepted it with a grateful look and finished the rest of it. 

"Gets hot in here," she finally said, when he lowered the empty bottle. 

Marcus nodded and ran a hand through his hair, managing to only make it stand out in even more tangled strands against his face. He glanced down at her tank top as he gave her back the jug, and raised an eyebrow. "Modest?" 

"Me?" 

He nodded, and she shrugged, uncertain. Marcus pursed his lips, then shrugged, undoing the top three buttons on his shirt before stripping it off and tossing it on the sofa. Buffy took the chance to cover her blush by busying herself with placing the empty bottle carefully on the floor. _Breathe,_ she reminded herself. _It's not like you've not seen a guy before... _ and then she stood up and looked. Marcus had walked back to the middle of the floor, his hands tucked into his jeans pockets as he waited. He didn't turn around when she gasped audibly. 

"Yeah," he simply said. 

It was another second before she found her voice. "Your back -" 

"That's the rituals." 

She stared openly, realizing that he was letting her see, so she'd understand. His back and arms were covered with thin white lines, a series of whiplash thin slices in criss-crossing lines; an endless diamond pattern. When he turned, slowly, his eyes were unfocused, large and vulnerable. She met his eyes with her own, wide and green, equally uncertain. He looked away, waiting, as she let her eyes follow the line of his jaw, down to the hollow of his collarbone, the strong lines of his wide shoulders... and the broad fresh scars from the previous night's attack. Still angry against his skin, the four distinct lines were already whitening into narrow traces across his lean chest, ending just about his jeans. His body was sinewy, not muscular like her former loves, but still muscular in a lean, potent way. She swallowed hard. 

"Those scars..." Buffy's voice trailed off, and she squinted, trying again. "Those scars on your back, are they..." 

Marcus nodded. "Same kind of injury." 

"But not -" 

"No," he said. "Those are all from my..." and realized he couldn't say it. He closed his eyes. She noticed his toes curling against the wooden floor. "They're from the rituals," he repeated. 

"Oh," Buffy whispered. Stepping forward, her foot hit the jug and it flew across the floor, rattling to a stop in the opposite corner. Both she and Marcus jumped, surprised, and Buffy shrugged helplessly. "I don't know my own strength against Tupperware," she cracked. Marcus chuckled, and she responded by grinning widely. Reaching out a hand, he beckoned her close. 

"Ok, now you know the damage my clan can do." He held his hand out, motioning her to stop. Keeping his hand out, he stepped forward a pace until his outstretched hand was only inches from her shoulder. "Now I'll show you how." 

Buffy nodded, and remained still. After a second, she felt something pressing lightly on her collarbone. Electricity shot through her system, and every nerve tingled from his touch. Startled, she glanced down only to see Marcus' fingers still inches from her. She tried to focus, blinking. "I don't see anything, but I can feel-" 

"You sure?" he prompted. 

She looked again, carefully, letting her eyes unfocus. Then she saw them: five talons, stretching from Marcus' fingertips and resting gently on her skin. They shimmered, barely visible if she didn't look at them directly. Buffy jumped back, her eyes wide as she stared at Marcus. He shrugged and pulled his hand back, staring at it for a moment before letting it fall. 

"My clan has a joke that only dead people can see 'em." He held up his hand again, and Buffy saw the flicker of light around the edges of the claws. They extended about three inches past his fingertips, an ivory like slender horns of a mythical beast. "Most victims are dead before they even realize they've been struck." He let his hand fall, and shrugged. A satisfied smile played around the corner of his mouth for a moment. 

"The other night," Buffy started, confused. Hesitating a moment, she tried again at putting her memory into words. "You decapitated that vampire as I was about to dust him."

"Well, sort of." Marcus smiled. "We pretty much got him at the same moment."

"You used those claws of yours?" Buffy was impressed, and took another look at his hands.

"These?" Marcus wriggled his fingers at her, and chuckled, shaking his head. "Not unless I wanted to be there all night. Using these to cut like that would be like slicing meat with a razor blade."

"Hunh?"

"They're not hacksaws, they're knives... or just extremely sharp fingernails, one might say." He cocked his head at her, running his eyes down her body for a second before meeting her eyes. She was still looking at his hands. 

"So how do you like, dial a phone, or write, and stuff?" 

It was Marcus' turn to look blank, until he realized what she was asking. "Oh, no," he said, chuckling. "They're like cat claws. They retract. They're for defense, not offense, though we've learned to use them that way. We don't develop them until adolescence..." For a moment, he was pensive, remembering the Rite at age thirteen when he entered the Marcul community. He stared at his hands for a second before looking back at Buffy. 

"Anyway," he continued, as if remembering the reason for being where he was. "It's rare that the Marcul will shift completely at any point during a fight." Buffy raised her eyebrows, waiting. "That's when we're vulnerable," he explained, and took a step back from her. _I have to trust her if I'm going to get her help,_ he reminded himself silently. 

He exhaled, and his muscles relaxed subtly, his eyes focusing inward. As she watched, wide-eyed, he shifted suddenly, his form glimmering slightly as she became aware of a large wolven shape before her. It seemed to gleam dully, the size of a large man bent over, or an Irish wolfhound. _If Irish wolfhounds were like... lizards,_ she thought, for some reason finding it funny. The creature's eyes were obsidian, and its long tail resembled nothing so much as a komodo dragon's, squat and powerful. Its legs were also thicker than a wolf's, with long talons barely visible beneath the thick fur. The ears were flat against the head, pressed back as the creature opened its mouth at her, revealing a double row of incisors. 

Buffy took a step back, drawing in her breath as she prepared to defend herself. The creature – _Marcus, it's Marcus,_ she reminded herself – flicked its ears forward, and she realized its neck was covered with a ruff of fur, running in dark gray ripples down its back to the base of the spine, where the scaled tail began. Its underside was a cobra's pattern of black and gray, and its nails clicked on the wooden floor as it pivoted in place, turning for her to observe its movements. She noticed muscles moving under its fur as it turned again. 

The creature flickered once more, and Marcus was crouching on the floor, his hands splayed as he tried to catch his breath. She stepped forward instinctively, to help, and wavered. Marcus looked up and saw her hesitation. 

"I know," he managed to choke out. "It's a bit unsettling." He sat back on his haunches and smiled up at her. "It's also exhausting, holding it visible like that." 

"That's what I saw tonight," Buffy told him. Marcus shifted his weight and looked up at her, curious. "Your cousin... I figured it was just the light, or, uh, lack of it, being night and all. But I could've sworn he went all wolfy and..." her voice trailed off and she gestured dumbly at Marcus. Getting her meaning, he nodded. 

"Aeralyus has always gone for intimidation over substance," he replied with a wry grimace as he stood up. "We don't usually keep it visible for long. We're not like vampires – it's not an infection. It's part of us, but its form is so radically different from humans that it doesn't really exist on its own, now. Once, it did, we did, I mean. But not now." He glanced past her to the fridge. "More water in there?" 

Buffy smiled shyly, and stepped out of his way. He took the hint and strode past her, one hand on his hip as he worked to get his breathing under control. She tried to stay focused, but was captivated by the countless white lines undulating across his body as he leaned over to open the fridge. 

_They look like... a snake's scales,_ she observed, intuitively recognizing the intent behind the curious diagonal lines. Marcus drank half of a second water bottle and handed it to her. As she drank, he began speaking again. 

"From what I've been taught, our clan didn't develop its fighting talents until after we'd begun, uh," he searched for a delicate way to put it. "I suppose inter-marriage is a suitable word." 

Buffy lowered the water bottle, still silent, and stepped past him to put it away. 

Marcus continued, "the demon shape, while perhaps frightening, is vulnerable. For starters, it doesn't entirely exist except by virtue of our own intentions. It's very easy to lose that focus when attacked, and come back to human shape. Shifting requires relaxing one's outward awareness, and letting down your guard is a distinct vulnerability when facing an opponent. We've learned to manipulate parts of it to our advantage, within the human shell. That's how we developed our defenses, though some of us..." He was reminded of his uncle's unique defenses. 

"Some of you what?" Buffy straightened up from the fridge and turned to face Marcus. 

"My clan's resorted to magick through much of their history, to protect themselves." He shrugged. "A long interaction with magick invariably changes the user, and they develop other defenses." 

"Like what?" 

"Depends." Marcus replied vaguely, remembering his uncle's fear of this girl. _I'm so unused to talking..._ He shook his head. "I doubt you'll run into any of those relatives - they're rarer than my clan would want you to think." A wintry smile flashed across his face. "My cousins, like me, have only the traditional two weapons." 

"Invisible claws and a bad attitude?" 

Marcus grinned. "No. The talons are for close-in, but the other weapon is..." He blushed suddenly, and Buffy raised her eyebrows. 

"Is this a guy thing?" she asked, dubious. Marcus shook his head, and swallowed hard, regaining his composure. 

"Oh, not at all. But as long as I'm showing you my clan's secrets..." he held out a hand, and she stepped forward, then put her hand in his, braced for the jolt. It came and went, but not nearly as powerful. 

_Either he's tired, or I'm getting used to it,_ she thought. _I wonder if Xander and Willow eventually became used to it. I wonder..._

Her thoughts were broken as Marcus gently pressed her fingers between his, and leaned down over her hand. She stared, confused, thinking he was going to kiss her hand – and then realized he was licking the back of her wrist. At first, it was soothing, in a sandpapery way, and then it became irritating. She jerked her hand slightly, and he pulled away from her hand, but didn't let go of it. 

"Okay, this is definitely a guy thing. I don't know what you think -" Buffy started to launch into him about bad seduction moves when she looked at the back of her wrist, cutting her words short. Her wrist was reddened and raw, like she'd scraped it badly, and it ached slightly. She considered getting angry, but instead flexed her wrist, aware of the pain that shot through her arm. "You..." 

"Yeah," he answered, but still didn't drop her hand. Buffy didn't make any moves to pull away. "Once more and you would've been bleeding." He let go of her hand, almost reluctantly, she thought. 

"Bleeding," she repeated, bringing her wrist up closer to look at it. "Hunh. Speedy Slayer healing would be good about now." 

Marcus grinned, obviously relieved she hadn't gotten angry about it. "If you want any of the oil, I brought the last of it with me." 

Buffy shook her head. "Just weirded. Never thought being licked to death was possible." 

"Well, there's bad licking and there's..." his voice trailed off as she glanced up at him, suspicious, to see his gray eyes twinkling at her mischievously. She blushed and dropped her wrist, stepping back. 

_All business now,_ she reminded herself. _There's a reason we're here._ She squared her shoulders and he took the hint, dropping back on his heels. 

"This time, remember the hands – if they're open, you're dealing with talons. If it's a fist, the talons are buried." Marcus flexed his hands. 

"But everything else is regular human?" She ran her gaze up and down his body, checking for additional strengths and weaknesses she might've missed before. 

Marcus smiled wryly. "Yup, all human." 

Buffy glanced up at his face, and flushed in response. His eyes were slitted, and his body was arched as he leaned towards her. _He's not next to me,_ she thought, _but it feels like he's still touching me._ She shook off the sensation and braced herself. Marcus made the first move, his right hand flashing out, palm down, slicing diagonally up across her body. She dodged to the side, twisting away from the whistling sound as the talons grazed her shirt. 

  


_[~ continue to next chapter ~][1]_

   [1]: 18-12.htm



	19. Chapter 18

dark alchemy : part III - Conjunction : Chapter Eighteen

  
**

chapter eighteen

**

Humanitas 

For the first several minutes of sparring, Buffy blocked Marcus' moves or dodged them, trying to gauge the length of his arms. Her eyes flickered between his body and his hands, guessing when he'd feint a punch instead of reaching for her open-handed. About half the time, she guessed wrong, and barely escaped the talons. Marcus began picking up the pace of his attack as Buffy struggled to sense the talons before he struck. 

"Those things must be awfully handy when the mail arrives." She quipped, keeping her distance. "Hard on the girlfriend, though." _I don't believe I just said that._

Marcus blushed. "I, um, actually have pretty good control." He feinted with his right hand, and Buffy ducked. The movement exposed the top of her shoulder, and a flick of his left hand drew a line of blood across her skin. 

_Ow. That stung. _Following her momentum, Buffy spun around and punched him just below the ribs. _ Ow, again. His muscles really are hard, and not just... ripple-y,_ she thought, surprised. He staggered back, bumping into the heavy punching bag hanging from the ceiling. Recovering his balance, he advanced on her, keeping his hands open. A quick series of slashes made ribbons of the bottom half of her tank top before she managed to block his wrist, grab hold, and pull him into her upraised knee. 

"Whuff!" His breath rushed out of him. He instinctively wrapped his hands around her thigh, and, gasping for more air, tossed her back. Her surprise at his quick recovery gave him an opening. As she flailed her arms in an attempt to regain her balance, he landed a solid uppercut on the end of her chin, and followed it up with a jab to her solar plexus. 

Now it was Buffy's turn to gasp for air. Unable to balance well enough to kick Marcus, she aimed a right cross at his face, trying to bloody his nose, but he quickly blocked her punch. She winced at the pressure on her wrist, still raw from his earlier tonguing. In irritation, she grabbed him by the shoulders and head-butted him. 

Their skulls cracking together rang in his inner ear as Marcus brought his hands sweeping upwards, breaking her hold on him. He grabbed her arm, pulled it across his shoulder, and turned, throwing her a little harder than he'd intended. She flew across the room, landing on the floor next to his shirt. 

She sprang to her feet, picking up his shirt in the process. "Nice shirt. Silk?" They started to circle each other once again, looking for an opening. 

"Yeah. Why?" His eyes narrowed. 

"Oh, you know, Italian fashion." Buffy held the shirt by the collar in her left hand, letting it dangle. Leaving her right side open, she held the shirt off to her left, and inched closer. Marcus took the bait, and sliced at her side, fingers fully extended. She whipped the shirt up, catching its tail in her other hand, and twisted it around Marcus' outstretched hand. "Plus, silk is really hard to cut." 

She pulled him forward sharply, released the collar of the shirt, and backhanded him across the face. As he reeled back, she hooked his knee with her foot, and he sat down heavily. 

Buffy quickly spun the shirt into a tight twist, and snapped it towards his eyes. His right hand flew up and caught the shirt. Balancing on his left hand and foot with his right hand holding onto the shirt, he snapped off a kick to her hip. Buffy shifted her weight and yanked hard on the shirt. The force pulled Marcus onto his feet, then off them and into the air. 

He let go at the last moment, and tuned his flight into a diving roll, coming back to his feet. He turned to find her running towards him at top speed. He slashed at the air in front of him, bringing her up short at the last moment. He relaxed his talons and shoved instead at the center of her chest, toppling her backwards onto the floor. Marcus leapt at her and was astonished when he felt her feet catch his weight. Buffy pushed off, sending him flying across the room. He landed heavily on the couch. One of the couch legs snapped under the impact. 

By the time he struggled off the couch, Buffy was on her feet again. They met nearly in the center of the room, exchanging blow after blow, with neither able to gain any further advantage. 

Finally, Marcus extended his fingertips and opened a gash right down the center of Buffy's tank top, exposing the pink bow at the center of her bra. The unexpected sight distracted Marcus for a split second and Buffy had her opening. She leaned back for a solid kick, and her heel crashed into his sternum. He fell back, and barely recovered enough to get his feet under him, but she was already charging him at full speed. He aimed a wild cut at her back as she rushed past him, leaping for the chains holding up the heavy bag. 

_That was stupid,_ thought Marcus, as he stood with effort. _It's not like I've never seen a pretty girl's..._ The thought died as he turned to see Buffy's feet coming toward him once again, this time connecting brutally with his shoulder. The impact sent him sprawling onto his side. 

Buffy landed gracefully on her feet. _Boy, am I glad Xander reinforced that thing._ Aloud, she asked, "Had enough yet?" as she placed a foot firmly on each of Marcus' hands. 

He laughed good-naturedly. "All right. Just don't bear down, or I'll never play piano again." 

"You play piano?" asked Buffy, as she rocked back on her heels. 

"No, but I might, someday, I guess..." His words trailed off as he pointedly stared Buffy straight in the eyes. 

It took Buffy a moment to realize why his eyes weren't wavering from hers. She crossed her arms bashfully. "Um, I've got a spare shirt here, I think." 

"Sure," said Marcus, looking her in the eyes with an effort. "Go ahead. I promise not to look." 

  
Purplegrrl 

  


After an hour's work, Giles had finished the painfully slow process of translation, stunned at his discovery. Swallowing the bile that rose in his throat, Giles put the pages he had been reading on the coffee table. The transference rituals Charles described were appalling in their thoroughness and gruesome in their details. 

_ And that they had been performed on a child was unbearable,_ Giles thought. Taking off his glasses, he placed them on top of the translations he was studying. He pressed his fingers against his eyes as if to erase the images the rituals' descriptions had generated in his mind. 

Shuddering once, Giles drew his hands down his face, feeling the light stubble on his cheeks and chin. He sat for a moment longer considering what could be done, and what must be done. Standing slowly, and feeling much older than his forty-some years, the former Watcher staggered to the kitchen, exhaustion taking its toll. Tea, the balm of the British Empire, might not solve his ills, but at least it would give him something else to do, something else to think about for a moment or two. 

Fortified with a mug of freshly brewed Earl Grey in his hand, Giles walked over to the crates of books in the corner of the living room. Half the books were stacked on the floor from his and Marcus' earlier search. Sipping his tea, Giles pulled an eight-hundred-year-old copy of the Kabbalah from one crate and a volume of Jewish folklore from the floor. 

Retrieving his glasses from the coffee table and taking a seat in the wingback chair, he began flipping through the folklore book searching for the story of the Golem. He seemed to remember something about a reversal spell, to undo what had been done. 

_Yes, here it is,_ he thought, scanning the text. It was as he remembered - the magickal being was reduced to its component dirt when the elements of the animation spell were performed in the reverse order. In other words, the transference of energy was returned to its source when the ritual was reversed. Giles left the volume turned to the story of the Golem and put it on the floor next to his chair. Then he opened the Kabbalah and began to skim the arcane and ritualistic language. 

About halfway through the book, he suddenly slammed it closed, the noise shattering the quiet of the apartment. _This is religion-based magick. There is nothing here that could help us reverse rituals devised by demons, or even half-demons. If demons believe in a god,_ he thought grimly, _it certainly isn't the Judeo-Christian deity._

Frustrated, Giles paced back and forth across the living room. He considered the rituals he had translated and read. Bloodletting was a common theme that ran throughout - from a few small cuts to numerous long, shallow cuts crisscrossing a person's back. The last ritual demanded so many cuts that the subject would literally be bathed in their own blood. Giles' stomach turned when he thought what Marcus had endured over the years - all in the name of a mother's love. 

Turning back to the crates and stacks of books, he began looking through them once more. He ran his fingers along the spine of each book as if they were talismans that would aid him in his dilemma. Pausing over a copy of the Apocrypha, he steeled himself for what he knew he must do. _ If the Slayer energy is completely diverted, then the prophecies and warnings of Esdras might easily come true._

Giles pulled out a very thin volume he had forgotten he owned, a book of demon prophecies collected by some obscure medieval scholar. Most people, including some of his former colleagues, considered the book a hoax, a work of fiction masquerading as fact. In their eyes, demons were monsters, hardly better than animals, and had neither the intelligence nor the sophistication to produce prophecies. 

Giles poured himself another cup of tea before settling down to read. 

An hour later, the former Watcher closed the volume of demonic prophecies and rubbed his eyes. _Everything has a common theme,_ he thought. _It's all to eliminate man's hold on this dimension and to rule the Earth once more._ What would be an apocalypse in the eyes of man would be the demons' paradisium, to use the scholar's phrase. In essence, it was an inverted view of the prophecies of humanity. 

_Reversal. Inversion. _ The beginning of an idea flashed in Giles' brain. From the coffee table he picked up the pages documenting the last ritual performed on Marcus. He read it again. 

_This is it, _he thought, exhilarated. _If the steps of the ritual were reversed, then the energy transfer would be reversed as well. We'll have to begin with the last ritual, the longest and most harrowing, and work backward to the first one, drawing off the largest amount of energy first and working until the last trace had been returned to its original source._

But the original sequence of rituals had taken years to perform. _Could we work any faster without killing Marcus outright? And would Marcus agree to go through the process again? _The young man seemed genuine enough when he claimed to not want the Slayer energy_. But will he change his mind when he learns what reversing the transference will entail? _

_I'll cross that bridge when I come to it,_ Giles thought. _What I need to do now is reverse the most recent transference ritual._ He took a pad of paper and a pen he set down to work. 

Some parts of the ritual were easily reversed, other parts required more thought and checking of reference books. After a while, Giles leaned back and read over what he had written. 

While reciting the first incantation, use an obsidian knife, slowly make a dozen shallow cuts across the subject's back from right hip to left shoulder. Then make an equal number of cuts from left hip to right shoulder. During the second incantation, wrap heavy chains around the limbs of the subject and leave them on until he can bear their weight no longer. Then remove the chains to symbolize the spiritual release. 

During the third incantation, hold a candle flame to each of the subject's palms and to the soles of their feet until the flesh begins to redden. Sponge salted water over the subject, making sure to cleanse each part of the body thoroughly. During the fourth incantation, have the subject drink a tincture of thyme, parsley, and garlic from an iron goblet. Then allow the subject to dress in their own clothes to return to their own identity. 

"O szintén abszolvál, az ajtó szintén kozelí," Giles whispered. _It is ended, the door is closed._

He was confident that the ritual would begin the reversal of the energy transference that had been performed on Marcus but he was reluctant to submit the son of his old friend to more pain and humiliation. On the other hand, he had sworn to preserve this world against the powers of darkness. And though he was no longer an active Watcher, he would keep that oath. He would return the Slayer energy to its rightful inheritors, no matter what the cost.

His mind relieved at the decision, he carefully organized the notes and put them away. The last thing he'd want, he knew, was for Marcus or Buffy to return and find this out on his or her own. When the table was cleared, he stretched his back and leaned over to click off the lamp.

There was a knock at the door. 

  
Solitude1056 

  


Marcus collapsed backwards on the sofa with a laugh as he lowered his hands. He'd covered his eyes to tease her while she changed shirts, and had made a point of blundering across the training room, hands over his eyes, on his way to the sofa. Buffy had laughed at his post-sparring goofiness. 

She smiled at him, relaxed now after the strenuous fight. _He doesn't seem to think that was too long to change a shirt, _she thought, mildly exasperated at herself. _ Stalling so I can sneak looks! And he is **so** not of the scrawny. _She had admired the slight inward curve of his stomach, following the line down to where his jeans hung just below his hips. _Not too tight, not too loose, _ she had noticed appreciatively. Buffy's eyes strayed to Marcus as he stretched lazily across the sofa. _ Woah. Stop there. _Buffy shook herself. She flexed her hand, the ache finally fading from where she'd punched him in the chest_. _

Lolling sideways across the sofa arm, Marcus shook his head at Buffy good-naturedly as she closed the storage closet's door. He sat up, and grabbed his own shirt off the floor and pulled it on, groaning as he moved. "Okay, this is a sign that I'm terribly old, isn't it?" He wrapped a hand around his chest and took hold of his opposite shoulder. Giving his shoulder a strong yank, he stretched out his back with a grimace. "You kicked my ass." 

"I didn't..." Buffy started to say as she dumped the first aid boxes on the sofa next to him. Seating herself, she looked at him a second time. "So maybe a little. But you didn't go down easy." She blinked. "In the sense of falling, I mean, not in the, uh..." Her voice trailed off as she focused on investigating each individual item in the first aid kit. 

"Unh-hunh. You've done this before." Marcus cocked his head at her, amused, as he finished buttoning up his shirt. 

"Yeah. I mean, no... I mean, what do you mean?" Flustered, Buffy pulled out the box of antiseptic cleaning pads. "Beating guys up in my training room?" 

Marcus pulled out one of the bandage boxes and fiddled with it, feigning cool as he retorted. "As a matter of fact, yes." 

Buffy was quiet for a minute. "You're only the second. That, uh, I've sparred with here." Looking around the room, her expression was wistful as she added, "This room's seen a lot." Shaking her head, she made a face and looked down at the tank top on the floor. "But I don't think it's ever seen shredding action." 

"Sorry." Marcus handed her an antiseptic wet tissue. 

"Ever consider getting a job as a cheese grater?" 

"I tried, but I don't fit in a dishwasher." 

Buffy laughed, crinkling her eyes at him as their fingers touched. 

Equally taken aback by the display of wit, Marcus grinned back at her, and after a pause, exhaled suddenly. Buffy finished dabbing cotton at the shallow cuts across her stomach, and set the bloodied tissue aside, glancing at him curiously. "I'm..." Marcus hesitated. "I'm surprised. At myself. I mean... normally I can never think of what to say." 

"You." Buffy's statement was a question, or perhaps simply a statement. Marcus wasn't sure. He raised his eyebrows at her as he started to open another antiseptic package for her. It didn't cooperate, so he put it between his teeth instead when he couldn't get it to rip. After a second, Buffy took it out of his mouth and opened it herself with one swift tear. Marcus rolled his eyes at her. 

"Mayo syndrome," she explained. Marcus gave her a perplexed look, and she shrugged. "Last person to open the mayonnaise jar." Seeing he didn't get it, she tried again. "After everyone else has tried and loosened it?" 

"I'll leave it in your capable hands, then." Marcus lifted his hands in surrender before letting them fall back in his lap. His eyes were studiously affixed to her face, Buffy noticed. She pulled the shirt up a bit higher over her stomach, tucking the bottom of it under her bra. _All business now. Remember, self, we're through with tall, dark, and handsome. _

"So... you?" Marcus nudged her kneecap where it almost touched his thigh. She settled herself more comfortably on the sofa, sideways with one leg under her as she continued to clean the last of the cuts. "What do you mean, 'you'?" 

"Just that you seem," she replied wryly, "like someone who always knows what to say. And in more than one language, too." 

Marcus shrugged. "It's a new thing. I'm still not used to it." 

"A new thing?" Buffy twisted around to see if she'd missed any cuts. Marcus' eyes flickered to her stomach, and up past the curves of her breasts, and she was satisfied to catch him glancing up and then back down again before his eyes were again solidly set on her face. She unhooked the shirt and pulled it back down into place. 

"Not the languages part, the talking to people part. I didn't grow up with a lot of people around." Marcus' eyes jumped to her shoulder, and he frowned. "Turn around." 

Confused, Buffy did so, and heard another package of antiseptic tissue opened. Marcus shifted on the sofa behind her, and she felt him pull his leg up under him as he turned towards her. Twisting her head around to see, she asked, "What is it?" 

"There were... cuts, on your back," Marcus told her, his voice chagrined. "Sorry if it stings." 

"It's okay." Exhaling slowly, she braced herself, and still jumped when she felt his fingers touch the hem of her shirt. His fingers froze, and she kept her head down, not quite ready to let him see her expression. "Just startled me," she reassured him. 

"Right," he replied, his fingers catching the shirt and carefully pulling it up to the center of her back. He held it there with one hand while he carefully dabbed at the deeper cuts across her back, pausing whenever he felt her body quiver at the harsh antiseptic. "My parents divorced when I was six, and after that it was just my mother and me." 

Buffy nodded, but didn't interrupt. 

After a minute, he discarded the first tissue and let go of her shirt to open a second package. Without thinking, Buffy reached behind herself and pulled her shirt up to her shoulder blades, leaning over with her arms close to her body. There was a pause, and he replied, "Thanks. That's easier," then added so quietly she almost couldn't hear him. "Knew you were modest." 

She didn't respond immediately. She was too distracted because he'd placed his hand on her waist, holding her as he carefully cleaned the many small cuts. He continued, conversationally, his voice level and even as if they were discussing the weather. 

_Heart, you can stop pounding now, we're not sparring anymore,_ she told herself, and grimaced. The stern reminders weren't working, and her concentration was divided between the husky sound of his voice and the warmth of his hand on her side. 

"My family's business meant my mother moved around a lot, or that's what she told me." Marcus paused and set the tissue aside to open another package. "No wonder you have hundreds of these things. They're too damn small to do much good." Buffy chuckled. 

"Anyway," he continued, "I had private tutors, and I saw my family regularly – my mother's family, that is – but there weren't many kids my age. Actually, there weren't any, at all. My cousins were the closest to my age. Everyone else was ancient." Marcus' voice got softer as he removed his hands to open another package of tissue. "When my mother died, there was a huge custody battle between my father and my mother's parents. The result was that I went to boarding school in London, saw my father on school holidays, and spent summers in Italy with my mother's parents. Boarding school was a shock." 

"The classes?" 

"No, the dormitories. I was used to having a whole wing of the house to myself, and here I was in a room with forty other boys, all my own age. That's when I started learning magick." 

"You turned them into newts?" 

Marcus chuckled, and tugged at her shirt, indicating that she could let go. When she did, he pulled it smoothly down over her back, letting it drop into place as he leaned back. Buffy turned and began collecting the trash, nodding at him to keep speaking. 

"No, just learned enough from my mother's books to make them leave me alone. Nothing big, just whatever seemed like it'd work." Marcus tucked the unused antiseptic tissue packets back into their box, and handed it to her. "Things like shoving people mentally, minor healing meditations for when it was pick-on-the-new-kid day, and being invisible." 

Buffy dumped the used tissues in the trash and replaced the first aid kit in the locker, shutting the door quietly. "I knew someone who was invisible..." _but it wasn't like that girl could be un-invisible,_ she reminded herself. Clicking off the overhead light, she left the single floor lamp on as she returned to the sofa. 

"It's not really being invisible, it's just making yourself so unobtrusive that no one thinks to say, hey, someone is over there." Marcus shrugged as he moved to give her space next to him. He could still feel the electricity in the room from their sparring. Marcus found his voice again, and changed the subject. "Does your mom..." 

"She died last year," Buffy interrupted, unexpectedly. Marcus froze, realizing he'd tread on sensitive ground, and wondered what had prompted him to mention her mother. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and Buffy looked at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of her sad expression. 

"It's okay," she said. Swallowing hard, she started to tell him about her mother's illness, and how she got better, and then one day Buffy had come home and... Buffy found herself telling the silent stranger about the funeral, and Dawn, and her father being a no-show. 

Marcus replied by telling her of his father's death, and getting the news while on a business trip, and making it there in time to speak with his father one last time. He told her about the key in his father's wallet, and the locked chest in the storage facility outside London, and finding his father's journals and the wooden box. Haltingly, he told her about reading whatever he could understand, and the frustration of knowing there was information in the rest of the journals but he couldn't read it. 

Buffy listened, and returned his open admissions by telling him about being called as a Slayer, and how she burned down her high school's gymnasium. That got a startled look from Marcus, who replied, "By accident?" 

When Buffy nodded, he told her thoughtfully, "I burnt mine down on purpose." Buffy's eyes widened, and Marcus grinned, shrugging. "I was an angry youth." 

"I knew you and Giles had something in common," she told him gleefully. At Marcus' request, she told him about the first time she'd met Giles. Then she told about Ethan Rayne, and Marcus listened closely, laughing when she described Ethan's attempt with the band candy, and about finding Giles' and her mother wandering Sunnydale together. She saddened for a moment, but it was forgotten as she began to describe Ethan's attempt to turn Giles into a demon so she'd kill him, finishing the story with Ethan being hauled off by the GI Joes. Marcus was stunned. 

"My father was going to send me to this guy?" 

"Oh." Buffy bit her lip. "He probably hadn't talked to Ethan in years." 

Marcus snorted. "Where's Ethan now?" 

"Military prison, I think. And the good thing, no more Sunnydale visitation for him, but it always did improve my day to give him a good beating." Buffy grinned, and Marcus scrunched down on the sofa, his long fingers splayed out across his thighs. 

"So who were the military guys that hauled him off? Why would they get involved?" 

Buffy was astonished to hear herself telling Marcus about the Initiative. _Mouth, you can stop chattering now,_ she rebuked herself. _Drat. Nothing's working. Maybe it's a spell._ Narrowing her eyes at Marcus, she interrupted herself mid-stream to demand, "Do you know a spell to make someone talk?" 

Marcus nodded, his eyes lingering for a moment on her lips. "It's called listening." 

Buffy halted, registering his comment, and rolled her eyes at him. "Let me try it, then. You talk some." 

Marcus obliged, and bit by bit his life rolled out in front of her, wrapped in his baritone voice and story-telling gift, hidden by shyness most of his life. He told her about Hong Kong in spring, Warsaw in summer, and London in autumn. He drew pictures in the air for her of wine festivals in Burgundy, May dances in Stockholm, and the museums in Frankfurt. He described his apartment in Venice, the creaking churches and mysterious alleys, and how the water glittered at dawn on the canals. She leaned closer as he told her about his mother's plans for his arranged marriage, the argument with his cousins, and fleeing for London with his father's journals on a compact disc and whatever clothes he could shove in his old rucksack. 

"Arranged marriage," she whispered, astonished. 

"Old tradition in the family," he replied. "Don't have much interest in getting married." 

"Oh, me neither." 

"Really." 

"I was engaged once." 

"You were?" Marcus' brows lowered. 

"It was because of Willow." 

"Willow?" 

"The redhead?" 

"I know who Willow is. You've lost me on the rest." 

Buffy smiled, embarrassed, and told him the story of her friend's Willpower spell and how it'd backfired. She detailed Giles' blindness, Xander's demon magnetism, and her own engagement. Most of it, at least. 

"So who was the lucky guy?" 

"The what?" 

Marcus tilted his head at her, unconvinced of her sudden memory loss. "The lucky guy, the one you were engaged to?" 

"Oh." Buffy made a face, and bit her lip before saying something so softly it was inaudible._ I tell him, he'll think that's why Spike's around now... oh no, brain, we are so not going there. _

"Who?" Marcus leaned closer. 

Buffy rolled her eyes as arguments chased each other through her head. _ Now I know I'm regressing. I've beaten gods, well, one god. But I've kicked vampire and demony ass for six years and I'm scared this guy will laugh at me? _ She noticed Marcus watching, and mumbled Spike's name inaudibly. _No, he'll definitely laugh. But if he keeps leaning closer... maybe I should just tell him, laugh it off, because if he keeps leaning closer... Hello, I'm an adult now. Where did these butterflies come from? _Her skin tingled.

Marcus frowned, and leaned even closer. "In my ear, darling. I don't seem to be hearing too well these days." 

Smiling wryly despite herself, Buffy leaned forward and softly whispered the name in Marcus' ear. She was rewarded with a soft shudder going through Marcus at the touch of her breath on his ear, and leaned back suddenly. _No, we're just talking,_ she rebuked herself. _Just talking._

She realized Marcus was watching her. In the half-light from the single lamp, she could see his eyes were dancing merrily. "Spike, hunh. You were engaged to a vampire." 

Buffy made a face at him. "Well, it's not like later, when he really was -" She cut herself off, but Marcus didn't let up. 

"When he really was... engaged to you, not just magickally engaged? You've been engaged twice?" 

"No, not engaged, the second time he was just in love with me," she said, giving up. "Yeah, it's ludicrous, I'm a vampire slayer, and he's a vampire, they're not supposed to fall in love with Slayers. Hello, I hunt vampires for a living." 

"It's the chase, darling." 

"It's the fight." Buffy's voice was flat, but still amused. Marcus nodded, and she leaned against the sofa back, digging her finger into the crease where the stitching was coming undone. 

"Spike does care for you," he offered. "And the rest of your... group." 

"I suppose." 

"No, he does. Don't know if that makes him worth loving, but he does." 

"He did a lot while..." Buffy let the sentence trail off, unwilling to go there. Marcus sensed her hesitation and thankfully remained silent. _A month is too soon, I still can't even think of it. _That night, the tower, and missing months were somehow always there, in the corner of her vision. As long as she didn't have to deal with it, she was okay. 

Catching herself, she began to explain how Spike had fallen in love with her, stalked her, and then had a robot made that looked just like her. Protectively, she omitted mentioning Dawn, or Glory, or that night... and Marcus, she was relieved to find, didn't pry. At random points in her story, she stole looks at Marcus' face, but it was impassive. _Whatever he's feeling, wish I could tell. He's as bad as Angel,_ she thought, irritated. Impulsively, she decided to ask. 

"What are you thinking?" 

There was a long silence before Marcus responded. He'd turned his head, and she couldn't quite make out his features in the shadow thrown by the lamp. "I'm thinking of loving someone that doesn't love you back, might not even know you exist." His voice was wistful. Buffy waited, and he continued after a pause. "I guess it's just a crush. If you can have crushes on someone you've never met." 

Buffy nodded. "Course you can. I used to want to marry Brian Boitano, except that he's like way older than me. Oh, and gay." 

"Brian who?" 

"He's an ice-skater." 

"Oh." Marcus shifted again, and her kneecaps tingled as he bumped them with his thigh. Rather than pulling away, he kept the touch between them, and sighed as he relaxed into place. "This girl... I've been dreaming of her for the past three years. Never had any idea who she is, but she's been in my dreams. A tall brunette, proud, fierce. At first, she was angry, violent, but now she's just sad. She never seems to know I'm there." His voice was lonely. 

Buffy smiled sadly, cocking her head as he continued speaking. 

"Then again, I can remember always having someone in my dreams, no matter what I was dreaming, there'd be a girl there. Just that this one is the most recent, and been around the longest." 

"It sounds better than dreaming of giving a report in class while naked." 

Marcus raised his head, staring at her, obviously startled by the visual. "While what?" 

"Uh." Flustered, Buffy backpedaled. "Not that I have that sort of dream. In my dreams, when I'm giving a report, I'm wearing long underwear, and several layers. And the long underwear's the scratchy kind." _And I tend to blather when nervous, _she added silently. 

"The girl in my dream," he whispered, hesitant, "is a Slayer." 

Buffy nearly choked. _Angry, now sad, tall brunette._ "And the other girls? What do they look like?" _Faith, he's dreaming of Faith._

Quietly Marcus described Faith, as well as a dark-skinned girl that Buffy silently identified as Kendra, and a blonde she was startled to hear him pointedly identify as her. Then he began describing a willowy redhead in Germany, and a shy serving girl in Hong Kong, and she realized these were the slayers before her. He fell silent, shrugging. "The dreams didn't start until after my parents divorced, and my mother and I began moving around. Every time we moved, just before we moved, there was... a funeral." 

A chill went up Buffy's spine, and her sharp breath seemed loud in her ears. "A funeral?" 

Marcus nodded, but didn't look at her. His voice was subdued, and sad. 

_And... scared,_ she thought. _He's scared._

"My mother would... pay her respects, and then we'd return home. That night, there was another major ritual. Within a week, we'd be packing for some foreign city. Every two years, sometimes three, usually only one... until I was 16, and she was..." 

The room was silent, except for a strange sound. Buffy realized Marcus' breathing had grown jagged. Instinctively she reached out a hand and placed it over one of his, and was relieved when he didn't pull away. 

"I suppose," he managed to say, "that I should be masculine and stoic?" He attempted a crooked grin, and she smiled in return before she saw the tears brimming in his eyes. He looked away from her, embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I just never knew... who they were. All my life, I only knew that I dreamed of them, and then they were dead. The rituals, I know my mother told me..." Marcus gasped, and turned his hand over to clench Buffy's tightly. "She told me I would be ill unless she did the ritual, that I wouldn't survive being half demon, half human, without the rituals. But in my head, I had to do the rituals because I had to make up for killing those girls." 

Every muscle in Buffy's body was taut as she arched forward to hear his halting whisper. Marcus looked away from her, but he clung to her hand as if to a lifeline, and slowly moved his to cover her hand in both of his. 

"And all these years, thinking that... I find out it's true." 

Buffy started to shush him, anxious but feeling anger well up inside herself. _His mother,_ she started to think, doubling back in her thoughts to catch another drift, _the other Slayers, weakened by... _she stopped herself. _Be here, now,_ she reminded herself. _ They're dead. You can't blame him for being used and lied to._

"It's true, it is," Marcus quietly insisted, recognizing the signs of her stiffened body. "Every time a Slayer died, the Source casts about, looking for the next one. My father details it in his journals. During that time, it's receptive, and during that time, my mother..." 

His voice trailed off as a tear dripped down his cheek and hung, crystalline, off his jaw. He made no move to wipe it, but laughed, a bitter sound. "I'm such a fool, I never asked why, I just believed her because..." 

"She was your mother," Buffy replied, releasing his hands. She leaned forward to embrace him tightly, and he wrapped his arms around her, burying his head against her neck as he silently cried. Laying half-on and half-off his lap, Buffy cradled Marcus against her until she felt him relax. After several more minutes, she realized his breathing had slowly deepened as he gave into the exhaustion. Numb, she considered moving, but then realized sleep was slowly overtaking her, too. 

_ A quick rest,_ she told herself, _and then we'll put this right._

  


**end of Part III - Conjunction  
** _[~ continue to next chapter ~][1]_

   [1]: 19-12.htm



	20. Beginning of Part IV - Fermentation - Ch...

dark alchemy : part IV - Fermentation : Chapter Nineteen

  
**

chapter nineteen

**

Liquidram 

"I'm going to have to start passing around keys." Giles muttered when he caught a glimpse of a shock of blond hair through the small window in the door. Giles grumbled. "And stock up on blood... Do stop that bothersome knocking," he called as the knocking continued in a non-broken cadence. 

He had barely gotten the chain off the door when it swung open, clipping his right foot. 

"Dammit man, watch-" Giles' words were cut short when he realized the man breezing past him was a complete stranger. He walked in past Giles and stood in the middle of the room, his head lifted. He slowly began turning in a complete circle, apparently taking stock of every item in the room. He walked over to the desk and tried to open one of the locked drawers. 

"May I help you?" Giles began to walk cautiously toward the tall bookcase, never taking his eyes off the young man. 

Aeralyus ignored him, continuing his tour of the living room, but the few books scattered about told him only that this man was most likely a scholar. He could sense Marcus had been here, but it was like following a dog's scent through a room filled with cheap perfume. _If Marcus has actually been here, something is muffling his tracks, _he thought, irritated_._

Giles slid his hand behind the bookshelf, and pulled a crossbow loaded with a wooden bolt from the leather sling. 

Aeralyus stopped at the desk, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply. _ Either Marcus is small enough to fit in a desk drawer, or I've been misled by a decoy._ He heard a click behind him. 

"You'll be dead before you can aim that thing properly," Aeralyus murmured nonchalantly over his shoulder. 

"I don't think so," Giles retorted, taking aim at the stranger's back. "I seem to be out of silver bullets, but I'll bet wood to the heart has pretty much the same results." 

Aeralyus turned to Giles, amused by the man's humor and apparent lack of fear. He lunged before Giles could react and smacked the crossbow to the ground, knocking it out of Giles' grasp. He then turned to go, pulling on the top of the heavy bookcase as he went. Bending over to pick up his crossbow, Giles ended up pinned to the floor beneath the bookcase. The Watcher raised his head, expecting another attack. 

The room was empty, and the only sound was the hinges creaking as the door swung shut.

  
Solitude1056 

  


Marcus lay where he'd fallen asleep, scrunched down on the beat-up old sofa. His head was leaned back on the sofa, his body twisted uncomfortably to one side so Buffy could lean against his chest, and his arms encircled her. Her breathing was steady against his collarbone. 

Vaguely aware of his physical body as he reached the surface of dreaming, her soft breaths became a bird, fluttering within his chest. Its feather tips grazed his sternum. Its wings beat against his ribcage, and its soft cries were a distant murmur. Marcus shifted on the sofa, trying to dislodge the bird trapped inside his chest, and accidentally bumped his elbow against the sofa arm. 

He was awake instantly, the sudden pain radiating through his elbow before fading. Blinking once or twice, it took him a second to realize Buffy's breathing was rapid. A single light in the corner shone dimly, and by its weak light he could see her eyes moving frenetically under her tightly closed lids. Marcus carefully shifted under her. Uncertain, he watched her face nervously, worried by the fear and longing chasing each other across her expression. 

Buffy's fist suddenly shot out, striking Marcus across his right cheek and glancing against the side of his nose. He yelped and grabbed her flailing fist with one hand as he put his other hand instinctively up to his face. 

"_Buffy!_" Marcus exclaimed. She didn't wake up but continued to flail, and he shook her, his hands digging into her wrists. Her eyes popped open as she continued to fight, still not aware of her surroundings. "Buffy," he called again, not as loudly. 

Buffy looked around her in shock. A sob caught in her throat. She frowned, and tried again, regaining her self-control as she became completely awake, and focused on his face. 

"What happened to you?" She squinted at the red mark already fading across his cheekbone. 

"That would be you," he responded ruefully, his grasp on her wrists gentler as she sat up straighter. She wriggled her wrists and he released his hold, but she surprised him by sliding backwards off the sofa to a standing position. "What was it? Are you okay?" he asked, bewildered. 

"I hate dreams like that," she told him as she pulled her hair back from where it had come loose from the hair tie. "Come on. You ready?" 

"For what?" Marcus asked dumbly as she grabbed her socks and shoes. 

"Time to patrol," she retorted, rolling her eyes. "Best therapy. Let's go." 

"Therapy." Marcus grimaced as he leaned over to put on his socks and shoes, then grinned wryly. "So, everything else so far was just warm-up?" 

"Yeah." She grabbed her coat from the hook by the door, flashing him a smile. She opened the door, and Marcus tugged on his own jacket while she locked the door behind her. He was startled as Buffy jerked her head at the empty street and picked her pace. Together, the two of them ran briskly through the deserted city streets, two souls enjoying the stretched muscles and steady beat. 

Neither of them had heard the shop's phone ringing. After a pause, it rang again, four more times before it was silent. 

Buffy had just rounded the corner, running straight down the middle of the street. Marcus was vaguely aware of familiar shops and street signs flashing by as he stretched his legs to keep up with this surprisingly fast petite woman. Inhaling deeply, he was suddenly assailed by an all-too-familiar scent. 

  
Liquidram  


  
"Wait!" Marcus yanked Buffy to a stop. He moved in front of her, sniffing the air tentatively. 

"It's a bit late for window shopping," Buffy replied. Her excitement had grown with each passing moment. _I can't believe this. Have I really missed fighting side-by-side with another Slayer?_ Even as she thought it, she pushed it away. 

"Talia." Marcus whispered the name. "She's nearby." 

"There's two of us, one of her." Buffy put her hand on his arm to get his attention. Instinctively he put his arm around her, drawing her close and a bit behind him. Impatiently, she dug her elbow into his side and was rewarded with a quiet yelp. She stepped around to face him. "We could finish this, now." 

"Shh." Marcus replied softly, trying to calm his panic. He hesitated, then leaned closer and brushed his lips softly over her forehead. He pulled back to see Buffy's face contorted in confusion, but his shyness won out and he looked away from her. 

"You may be ready," he whispered, "but I'm not. Let's go." 

Spike stepped out of the shadows, listening as the footfalls faded in the distance. He scowled at the intimate touches he'd glimpsed between Buffy and that half-demon. 

_What if something is wrong? Marcus had clearly been terrified._ Spike could sense the fear hanging in the air. _Buffy might need my help._ He turned and began walking in the direction they had taken, then hesitated. _No, it's wolf-boy's problem, he can deal with it._ Spike pulled out another cigarette and lit it. Still grumbling about Marcus, he took a deep drag, and turned around to look at the neon lights of the bar he'd just left. 

_It was only a matter of time, _he sighed, and headed back into the bar. _ Gotta have a monster in the man, but maybe I'm just not it. _ Spike re-seated himself and ordered another drink. _She can take care of herself..._ Shaking his head slowly, he took a sip of his beer. _... but that bloke is bad news._ This one time he hoped that his instincts were wrong. 

  
Humanitas 

  


The graveyard was apparently empty, but Marcus followed along as Buffy tramped through the length of it. She was still a bit disturbed by Marcus' ability to sense his cousin. 

"You make it sound obscene," Marcus protested. "And it's not. It's just like, uh, following someone's footprints." 

"Still sounds weird." Buffy looked around the graveyard and zipped up her jacket. Once they'd stopped running, she'd realized it had gotten colder while they were sparring. "D'ya think she could smell you?" 

"I don't know. If Tara's wards are good..." They picked their way between the tombstones. 

"Then we can worry about her later." She pulled ahead, peering into the darkness. "We've got patrolling to do, for the moment. One thing at a time, right? 'Cause, more than one is hard to fight, and that was a lot more intelligent sounding when I thought it." 

He chuckled. "Don't worry about it. I guess I'm just - oooff!" The breath was knocked out of him as a vampire came from behind a monument, tackling him to the ground. 

Buffy spun around, stake at the ready. "Hey!" She grabbed the vampire's shoulder as he pinned Marcus to the ground. "Don't you know it's rude to interrupt?" She plunged the stake into the monster's back, dusting him. 

"Thanks," said Marcus, coughing. 

She helped him to his feet. "No problem." 

"Yes, problem." He pointed behind her. 

She turned, to see five more vampires emerging from the darkness. From behind her, Marcus teased, "you had to talk about more than one being harder to fight, didn't you?" 

"Oh, so this is my fault, now? Fine. You take those two." She indicated a pair of smaller vamps who had been hiding behind a mausoleum. "I'll handle the rest." 

"What?" He was indignant. "How come I have to take the little ones? And that leaves you to deal with three all on your own!" 

She pushed him out of the way, and dropped to one knee, tripping an on-rushing vampire. "Four, actually. Don't argue." She staked her second victim. "Um, go?" 

Marcus scowled and charged the two diminutive vampires, grabbing a fallen tree branch as he ran. "I just think we should divide them up evenly," he said as he blocked a punch neatly. 

Buffy moved forward, placing herself between Marcus and another pair of vampires. Out of the corner of her eye, she was aware of another one circling around behind her. 

"I've been doing this longer. I'm more used to it." She thrust her stake towards the creature behind her, and leapt at the other two, kicking one in the chest. The vampire flew backwards, rolling clumsily over a low tomb. "Besides, what's the most you've ever fought at once?" She punctuated her question with a solid punch to the face of her third opponent. 

Marcus jammed his tree branch through one of his attackers. "I managed three at one time pretty neatly last night, if I do say so myself, for a total of five." 

He brought the other end of the branch up sharply, catching the other short vampire under the chin. A follow-up blow sent the monster flying into the doors of the mausoleum, which gave under the impact. 

"No fair if you're counting the one I staked first," Buffy retorted as she staked the vamp in front of her, only to be seized from behind by the one she'd sent flying earlier. He pulled her backwards, slamming her onto the top of the tomb. The stake fell out of her hand. 

"Slayer," the vampire hissed. His breath stank of blood. "Once in a while it'd be nice if you paid a little attention to us." 

His companion approached the tomb, appearing in her field of vision. "Yeah, we're feeling a little under-appreciated, here." 

"Great. Needy blood-suckers." She brought her foot up into the groin of the vamp in front of her, curled her legs up, and kicked the other one in the face. "Like I don't get enough of that from Spike." 

She rolled over her shoulder off the tomb, landing with her feet on the ground, and threw the second vamp against a tree. She was a little surprised when he exploded into dust, revealing a broken branch sticking out of the tree trunk. Marcus had dispatched both of the smaller vampires, and turned to the last remaining one. 

"I know how you feel," he told the vampire solemnly.

The vamp looked up, still clutching at his crotch. "She kicked you, too?" 

"No, but she's hard to impress." He sent his foot spinning into the vampire's chin, knocking the vampire upright. Buffy saw Marcus' kick and immediately responded. 

With a cry of, "hey, that's mine," she rolled over the top of the tomb, scooping up her stake in mid-roll. She came to her feet on the other side, and with one fluid motion hurled the stake into the vampire's back.

She looked at Marcus as the dust cleared, and shrugged. "Well, I did call dibs on him first." 

  
Liquidram   
& Marie 

  


Spike swigged his beer and set it down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand._ Bloody ultimate nachos,_ he thought morosely. _They're gonna be repeatin' on me all bleedin' night. Soddin' Harris._ Then he thought of the ten-dollar bill he'd manage to lift from Xander's pocket earlier, and cheered up a little. 

He had swung by Willy's old place when the evening with Giles and Xander had broken up. If there was anything to hear about Marcus's kissing cousins, though, no one was talking. _Almost enough to make me wish Willy was around. The grapevine just isn't what it used to be, _he thought to himself – raising a hand to the barman for another beer. 

_Giles better know what he's talking about – 'subverting the Slayer's energy', 'reverse the transference rituals'... bloody hell, what the hell are demons coming to these days?_ Annoyed, he scowled at the bartender's slowness in bringing him another beer. _A fellow just can't get a good fight these days._

He reached into his pocket for a cigarette but stopped at the scent of a faint but expensive perfume. Spike turned to see a tall, dark-haired woman had taken the seat next to him. He narrowed his eyes at her, enjoying the sight. _Not human, but she sure is a looker._ She had porcelain skin, and didn't mind showing it. _A lot of it,_ Spike noticed appreciatively. Her dress was cut low and cut high, and Spike drank in the sight of her legs shown off to perfection by a pair of four-inch heels. 

It wasn't Talia's usual choice of watering holes, but she'd scented her cousin on the pavement outside. She couldn't resist taking a quick look inside to see if he was actually foolish enough to let himself be cornered. _In a dirt bar, no less,_ she thought, her lip curling in disgust. A glance assured her that Marcus was nowhere to be seen. _He's been here, I know it._ Her glance fell on Spike, by the bar, and she smiled, a wintry expression of delight. _I could use a little distraction, and that'll do nicely._

"Are you just going to sit there staring, or are you going to buy a lady a drink?" Her voice was low and husky, like she'd smoked a few too many cigarettes and didn't give a damn. 

Spike felt a stirring of interest and sat up away from where he was hunkered over his drink. Raising an eyebrow at her, he said, "A lady wouldn't ask." He was rewarded with another slow smile, and shrugged in response. "I'll bite, so to speak." He flashed her a grin in response. "What's your poison?" 

Narrowing her eyes slightly, she shrugged the cream pashmina from her shoulders and pursed her lips. "Bite. How droll. Wild Turkey – straight, no ice." 

"Coming right up." Spike nodded to the bartender and repeated her order, along with another beer for himself. Satisfied the bartender was filling the order, Spike turned his attention back to the woman. There was something familiar about her, but he was certain he would remember a woman who looked this good. _The eyes, and the accent... Son of a bitch! She looks like Marcus._ He bit down on his lower lip and flashed her the seductive eyebrow routine once more, hoping to cover his surprise. _ Oh yeah, 'bout time to charm the enemy._

"No ice," Spike observed as the bartender delivered the woman's drink. "You British? Wouldn't've guessed from that accent." 

"No," she answered. The woman glanced at his boots, running her eyes leisurely back up the length of his body. She smiled as her eyes met his again. "But I've spent plenty of time there. You, though. London?" 

"Yeah." Spike grinned at her as the bartender delivered her drink. "Haven't bin back 'ome for quite some time, now. Probably give the folks a bit of a start if I turned up on their doorstep."

Talia stretched, pulling the fabric of her dress tighter across her chest. "You know it, baby. Same here," she purred. 

Spike matched her throaty chuckle and clicked his glass to hers. _This is going to be fun._

  


_[~ continue to next chapter ~][1]_

   [1]: 20-12.htm



	21. Chapter 20

dark alchemy : part IV - Fermentation : Chapter Twenty

  
**

chapter twenty

**

Humanitas 

The lights were still on at Giles' apartment when Buffy knocked on the door. 

"Yes, who is it," came Giles' muffled voice. 

"It's Buffy. And Marcus," she added quickly. She glanced at Marcus, perplexed. "That's weird. He usually opens the door." 

"Ah. Yes. Do come in." 

Buffy opened the door, and stopped on the threshold, nearly causing Marcus to walk into her. "Woah! Giles, what happened?" 

The Watcher was face down on the floor, pinned beneath one of his bookcases. The phone lay next to him. "It's rather a long story. Well, perhaps not that long, but I'd much rather tell it after I'm, ah, upright, again." 

Buffy and Marcus quickly righted the bookcase, and helped Giles to his feet. Giles stretched and twisted, trying to get himself back in order. 

"That's much better. Thank you very much. Marcus, could I impose upon you to make some tea?" 

As Marcus went into the kitchen, Buffy asked, "You sure you're ok?" 

"Yes, I think so," he replied. "Some bumps and bruises, not to mention cramps from being stuck down there for half-an-hour, but nothing seems to be broken. What's so funny?" 

Buffy had begun to giggle. "Well, gee, Giles, it's just that... You. Bookcase. Librarian. Trapped." She shrugged, still giggling. 

"Yes," Giles said dryly, "I assure you the irony was not lost on me. Nor was the fact that the Slayer was not about anywhere to dig out her Watcher." 

"Sorry, Giles. We fell asleep." At his look, she hastily added, "And then we were patrolling, you know, doing Slayer stuff." 

"I gathered as much when you didn't answer the phone at the shop." 

"We must've just missed it." Buffy was saved any further explanation by Marcus returning with the tea. "So, what happened?" 

"I had a visitor." Giles eased down onto the couch, wincing a little at the stiffness in his muscles. "Whom I can only assume to have been one of Marcus' cousins. He seemed to be looking for you." 

"But why would he come here," asked Marcus. "I thought that Tara's wards would've drawn him well off the scent." 

"Well, there are still several of them in the drawer of the desk," replied Giles, sipping his tea, "Perhaps the concentration was sufficiently strong to draw his notice." Noticing Buffy's look, Giles shook his head. "The drawer is locked. There's a key under... Well, it was under the phone, before I snagged the cord and dragged it halfway across the floor." He pursed his lips to cover a smile, finding humor already in the situation. "Regardless, we might want to distribute the rest of the wards." 

"I can do that on the way home," said Buffy. "Is there anything we can do for you first?" 

Giles smiled at her concern. "Well, I could do with a bit of help picking up these books." 

  
Marie &  
Liquidram 

  


More than a few drinks and an hour later, Spike and the woman - who'd given her name as Lia – had ended up at the Bronze, where the band was playing the sort of music bands all over the world played at the end of the night. Lia had proven to be good company, with a sharp wit and provocative style, and no hesitation in pulling him gently onto the dance floor. It had been a long time since he'd danced with a woman wrapped around him. 

They swayed together, each small movement nestling her breasts gently into him, and he smoothed a hand over her hips down to cup her behind, pressing her closer. Taking advantage of the fact that her heels made her slightly taller than him, he nuzzled into her neck, nipping lightly. 

_ Wonder if she'd mind if I 'ad a little taste. Don't count if it's not human, right?_ Her head was on his shoulder, her eyes closed, and he licked gently at the soft spot on her neck, just below her left ear. "Want to go somewhere more private, luv?" he whispered. 

She murmured agreement inaudibly without opening her eyes, then asked him, "your place or mine?" 

Spike had a mental vision of his crypt, and almost laughed. "Better make it yours, petunia, the maid called in sick today." 

"Come on then," she said, tugging at his hand to drag him outside. 

"Here," Spike rasped, as he pushed her into the alley that ran past the Bronze. "Can't wait," he growled. He pulled her sharply to him and together they fell back against the wall, consumed by the press of body-to-body, breast-to-breast, thigh-to-thigh. Spike hungrily returned Lia's kiss, realizing in a split second how much he'd missed the kiss of a real woman. _No mechanical parts here,_ he thought, pleased. 

Gasping, she pressed herself harder against him, her tongue entering his mouth and enticing his to follow in a tortuous game of chase, catch, suck. Lost in a haze of passion and alcohol, Spike was unable to prevent his game face from surfacing before he forcibly pushed that part of him back down. A sharp fang glanced off her tongue, drawing blood, but she only laughed softly through the kiss. 

Her hands were all over him, sliding inside his coat. She untucked his shirt and ran her hands up his chest underneath, dragging her nails. For a moment, he was frustrated by her tight dress, then he slid his hands from her waist to her hips. He swiveled, pressing her hard against the cold brick wall of the alley. Through the mist of alcohol and lust, he could distantly hear the throb of the music they'd just left behind. 

Without stopping the kiss, the woman reached for his coat. He hissed softly and tried to help her, shrugging the coat off his shoulders. She tugged the coat down to his elbows and twisted the leather behind him, trapping him within her grasp. Her touch was bolder through the rough leather, driving him mad. With a groan, he tried to escape the prison she'd created, but the next thing he knew he'd landed flat on his back, hard. She was standing over him, her shawl askew on her shoulders, and waiting for him to get up from where she'd thrown him. 

"What the hell-" he started. Her hand stopped him short, holding something out to him. It was the small bundle Tara had handed him hours ago. "Oh, bugger." Spike cursed himself. He had meant to toss the ward into the dumpster behind the bar before leaving but had completely forgotten. Sitting up, he jerked his coat back up and over his shoulders, shrugging to settle it into place as he stood up. 

"And I thought you'd made dinner of my cousin, and instead you're just carrying around a piece of him." Talia shook the bundle in Spike's face, taunting. "Where is he, lover?" 

For just a fleeting moment, Marcus' face flashed through his mind. The vision was immediately replaced by Buffy's face, and Spike shook himself, hoping to sober up through sheer willpower. Leering wickedly at the woman, Spike patted his stomach as if to say, _in here_ . 

The woman responded with a skeptical expression, and Spike realized she wasn't taller than him now. She'd stepped out of her lethal heels and was holding one like a stake. _ Spike wanted a fight, looks like Spike's bloody well got one._ Gloriously, the feeling he'd been missing flooded through him – pure, unadulterated happiness. "And I was showing you such a good time," he told her, as if aggrieved by her accusation. 

"Show me a better one," Talia replied. She stepped gracefully to the side and swung the shoe in a smooth arc, hitting him in the back. The force knocked him straight into the alley wall. 

"You bitch," Spike retorted, more in surprise at the blow's power than in pain. He desperately clawed at his back, her shoe heel deeply embedded just beyond his reach. The heel had missed his heart by a centimeter. His rage and frustration exploded as he threw himself against the wall, dislodging the spike heel from his back. Growling ominously, he turned to face her. The woman stepped back as he turned, her expression amused. 

_Enjoyin' this, are you,_ he thought, annoyed. _Okay, then, let's just see what you're made of._ Spike charged, letting his anger lead the attack. One hand grabbed for her throat while his other curled into a fist. The alcohol still in his system made his attack sloppy, and she parried it easily. The opportunity was averted and he grimaced as a surprisingly strong punch hit him full in the nose, knocking him to the ground. 

The pavement was cold, much colder than his skin, which was quickly losing the flush of heat from her earlier touch. Spike recovered quickly as he jumped to his feet, sizing her up before making his next move. Circling her warily, he grinned suddenly. "Well, I was planning on something different, but this'll do." 

"It's the gorgeous ones that like it rough," the woman purred. Talia wiped her finger along her lips and then looked carefully as if checking for smeared lipstick. _He had my heart beating faster than this before._ "If I'd known, I would've brought my whip." 

Spike laughed curtly, and charged again, this time with a better measure of the woman's reflexes. Their fighting was fast and brutal, with punishing punches and kicks exchanged so swiftly, that all the two could process was the pain of the blows and the stunning strength of each equally matched opponent. The battlefield widened. Spike moved to the far wall of the alley, scooping up a long-discarded bottle as he threw the woman off him to get distance between them. 

"C'mon, sweet pea," he taunted, making a rude gesture with one hand while holding the bottle in the other. "No holding back now. Afraid you'll mess up that pretty dress?" 

Unimpressed, the woman ran her fingertips down the front of her dress. The tear split, revealing a tantalizing amount of creamy breast. 

Spike chuckled, all of his senses on fire with lust and the fight. Leaning back slightly in preparation, he remarked off-handedly, "No sweat. Call K-Mart in the morning. They'll have plenty left." 

Talia's eyes lit up in fury and Spike instantly knew he'd scored on her. She kicked high to knock the bottle from his hand, just like he'd figured she would. Spike glided smoothly to the right, swinging the bottle swiftly toward her head and there was a satisfying crash as it shattered across her forehead. He stepped forward, placing his hip against hers, and wrapped his arms around her body, holding her arms tight against her sides but preventing her from falling. Blood dripped down her face, and she stared at him, challenging and cold. 

Spike's eyes glowed as he licked a crimson drop flowing down her cheek. "Where's the sugar and spice now," he whispered into her ear as he moved for her throat, "wolf girl." 

The woman's body stiffened in shock. Spike growled happily and opened his mouth against her neck, but before he could bite down, she'd forced her arm up and grabbed a handful of his hair. She pulled his face up to hers, kissing him brutally, ignoring his fangs cutting her lips. His tenuous control vanished with her touch. He returned the kiss hungrily as she reached her arms around him, pulling him closer. He shoved her back against the wall, punishing her with lips and teeth, his strong hands digging into her shoulders. A split second later, her knee was square in his groin. Reeling back from the pain, he screamed in fury. 

She laughed, her blood staining her face, as she watched him stagger from the blow. "It's been fun, baby, but I've got to be moving along." She stepped forward, and placed her hands on his shoulders. Pulling him towards her, she kissed him passionately. 

Spike was about to bite her tongue in retaliation when she backhanded him squarely in the jaw, sending him sprawling. Rolling to a stop against the opposite wall, he sat up in time to see her pick up her shoes and fade into the shadows and disappear. Wetness began streaking down his cheek. 

_You bloody wanker. Crying for no reason,_ Spike admonished himself. He swiped angrily at his cheek but there were no tears. "The lady has hidden talents," he whispered out loud, surprised. Grimacing, he again touched the slash mark on his cheek, looked at the crimson on his hand and licked his fingers clean, one by one.

For a long time, Spike lay in the alleyway, before shrugging to himself good-naturedly and getting to his feet. His back ached where he'd hit the wall, and Spike scowled, cursing the overseen kiss that had sent him back into the bar and on a bender. Just as quickly, though, Spike shook his head. _Naw, serves me right, _he figured. _And I'll pay for it again in the morning. _

He pulled out another cigarette, reaching in his coat pocket with the other hand to snag his lighter. The pocket was empty. Spike dug around in other pockets, checking several times before giving up. All empty.

"Bloody hell." 

The unlit cigarette hit the ground and was crushed underfoot as he stalked off toward home. 

  
Humanitas 

  


The three of them were almost done restoring order to the room. Marcus was finishing with the largest books on the lower shelves, and Buffy was gathering the assorted paperbacks and handing them to Giles, who sorted them carefully before returning them to the top shelves. 

"Hey Giles," Buffy asked, "What are you doing with all these books still here? I'd have thought you'd have taken them back to England." 

"Ah, well, you see, there were limits to what I could take with me. Weight restrictions, you know, so I only took my occult and rare books with me. These are the fiction." 

"I'll say." Buffy held up a copy of _What Color Is Your Parachute._ "What's with all the self-help books, anyway?" 

"I was unemployed for the better part of a year, you know," Giles replied stiffly and changed the topic as Buffy smirked for a moment behind his back. "Marcus, I think I may have found a way to reverse the rituals performed on you." Giles proceed to explain what would be involved, and did not leave out the dangers. 

"Oh." Marcus sighed. "I'm sorry. I–I-I don't know if..." He looked away from both of them, overwhelmed, his gray eyes large and vulnerable.

Giles looked him in the eye. "I still have some work to do to determine the details of the ritual, but it will certainly be trying, to say the least. You'll have to decide for yourself if you wish to go through with it." 

"I guess I'll have to sleep on it." The young man's face was troubled. "Maybe a walk would help. Buffy, may I walk you home?" 

"Sure," she replied. "We'll take the long way, and get rid of the rest of these as we go." She hefted the box of wards. Buffy said goodnight to Giles, and Marcus promised to be back soon. 

"I'm going to bed, if you don't mind. It's been a long day." Giles handed Marcus a key, and the young people let themselves out. Giles seated himself on one of the stools in front of the kitchen counter, sipping the remains of his tea before heading to his own bedroom. 

_They seem to be getting on,_ he thought. _I wonder if that's for the best?_

  
Liquidram 

  


The blowing leaves from the trees outside cast dancing shadows in the streetlights. Aeralyus watched the patterns of light dancing across the wall of the room as he tried to steal a few moments of sleep. The practice had always worked for him as a child, as he named and pretended with the shadow monsters inhabiting his room. 

He fell into a deep sleep, unencumbered by dreams. 

Talia sat on the bed watching her brother's peaceful slumber. In sleep, pain and exhaustion was erased from his features and she was once again filled with awe at his beauty and strength. He was the only creature - in any world - that she loved, and watching him, she wondered if they had finally met their match in this unassuming little pit-stop town. The moment shattered at the stronger emotion of hatred she suddenly felt for their father. He could have prevented this. 

She reached over her brother's sleeping form and cooed in his ear, "Wake up, sweetheart." She gently dragged the object in her hand over his face. 

He wrinkled his face, and tried to pull the blankets up, waking as he sensed his sister's presence. He grabbed at the object tickling his nose. 

"What's this?" he squinted, his eyes becoming accustomed to the dim light in the room. He sat up in bed and clicked on the light for a better look, then glanced up at Talia. He chuckled at her disheveled appearance. "And where have you been? You look like hell." 

Talia licked her bruised lips, remembering the vampire's touch, and did not immediately answer, caught up in a memory that Aeralyus was unable to intrude upon. S_he looks... sated, _ he realized. Aeralyus smothered a flicker of jealousy before he reached over and ran his hand across her shoulder, snapping her out of her reverie. 

"A gift from a vampire," she replied excitedly, her eyes sparkling with mirth, "that carries wards... and mementos." Looking down at her torn and bloody dress, her tone abruptly changed. "We need to get help. We've got to call-" 

"No, we need to do a location spell to find Marcus," Aeralyus countered. "His scent is already so dispersed, I can't get a lead on him. He's working with the Slayer and unlike her predecessors, she doesn't seem to mind playing with others..." He quit speaking when he realized Talia was no longer paying attention. 

She had jumped off the bed, and lazily pulled the ruined dress over her head and tossed it to the floor. She ran her hand across her breast, tracing her finger over an angry red scratch. Aeralyus watched, fascinated, as his sister walked toward the bathroom, her hands caressing her waist and abdomen, barely catching her softly spoken words, "Tell me about it ..." 

He caught her whispered sigh as the door closed. "Pity, you were so fine." 

  
Solitude1056 

  


The dark street's silence was broken by quiet thumps as small bundles landed on the grass and the street. The two figures were silent as they reached another intersection, separating to walk in opposite directions as they strong-armed the small projectiles into the quiet neighborhood yards. After several minutes, they met again at the corner. 

"That all of them?" Buffy asked. When Marcus nodded, she sighed in relief. "No more visits, then." 

"Was stupid of me not to notice she'd left some behind," he muttered. 

Buffy shook her head. "No," she said. "You can't keep track of everything." 

He shrugged, and they walked in silence for a bit. 

"Sorry... about earlier," he said softly. 

"Which part?" 

He looked obliquely at her, amused. "Which part," he mimicked. She hunched her shoulders for a second, a silent teasing response. Marcus tried again. "I didn't mean to offend you, when... I-I-I kissed you." 

"You kissed me on the forehead," came back the immediate reply. Her voice was skeptical. 

"Yeah, but still." He kept his eyes on the street. "Which part," he muttered. 

"Oh, please." Buffy nudged Marcus in the ribs again. "I wasn't offended. It was... nice." 

"Nice?" He groaned dramatically. "You're killing me with kindness here." 

"Well it'd sure be easier than trying to do it with a silk shirt," she retorted good-naturedly. "I mean, an extra one. You can keep the one you're wearing." 

"Such generosity," he exclaimed, feigning wounded shock. Buffy didn't reply, but made a face at him. He smiled suddenly. "I just didn't want you thinking... I mean, I-I-I was worried it bothered you." 

"Hmm." Buffy thought for several seconds, scratching her cheek thoughtfully before deciding to broach the subject. "I've never kissed another Slayer before. No, I have, but not _kissed_ kissed." 

"Excuse me?" Marcus looked over at her, his expression still amused. 

"That so did not sound like what I meant," she said, embarrassed. "I meant that, uh, I don't know what I meant." 

"It's okay, I think I know what you meant." He chewed his lower lip for a second, pensive. "No, on second thought, I haven't the faintest idea." He glanced at Buffy, who smiled absentmindedly. 

"You're not the first Slayer I've met." 

"That's what I thought you meant." Marcus stopped still, his expression confused. "But there's only one of you at a time. How can you meet -" 

"I died." 

Marcus' jaw dropped. After a second, he shook himself slightly, and closed his mouth. He began walking again. The only remaining sign of his uncertainty was a few quick glances at her. 

"I'd been a Slayer for about two years," she explained. "I drowned." At Marcus' unspoken question, she continued. "Xander brought me back. I guess the Slayer energy stuff hadn't heard of CPR, 'cause I was only out a minute and it was already calling up another Slayer." 

"Oh." Marcus exhaled deeply, still confused but less worried. _If she can treat that like it's all in a day's work, I suppose I can, too._ _And that means... the other one may still be alive. _The thought flooded him with a strange joy. 

"So there's been two Slayers for how long now?" 

"Almost five years." She tugged on his shoulder to get him to notice her pointing. Together, they turned down a side street, the bare tree branches arching over them and dappling the streetlight. "Well, there were two other Slayers. Not at the same time. There was Kendra, and she... died. And then Faith." Briefly, she described Kendra and Faith, and Marcus nodded. A muscle flickered in his jaw. 

"I guess the first thing you do is compete," she offered quietly. "Who's the baddest Slayer. Not like anyone could've known, since it's never happened before. But it was still... weird." 

"That's what it is." Marcus turned her to face him on the sidewalk. In the strange light, his hair was jet, but glistened at the edges from the golden light shed by someone's decorative yard lantern. "We both want to know..." he whispered. When she didn't say anything, he swallowed hard. "What it's like to be with someone like ourselves." 

Surprised, Buffy nodded. He was saying exactly what she'd been wondering. When she spoke, there was a catch in her throat. "I've had... boyfriends," she said, smiling wryly at the word. _It sounds so... high school,_ she thought. _And they were anything but normal-girl romances._ "But the Slayer gig is full-time, and it's not like there's time off for relationships." 

Marcus didn't move. 

Buffy continued, "And it didn't work out, either time. Well, any time. It's like I get to a point, and it's always something else. But I've always wondered..." 

"Is there something about a Slayer that another person can..." Marcus didn't finish the sentence. 

Buffy nodded. "I want to know what they feel, when they touch me. I feel this... electricity, I get zapped," she said uncomfortably, "when I... touch you." She looked away. Her hands clenched into a fist before she forced herself to appear relaxed. 

"Like this," Marcus said, and reached out for her hand, taking it gently. Buffy drew in her breath, quickly, and glanced up at him. His lips were parted and his breath was coming faster, but his expression was impassive. "I don't know if it's in you, or me, or only happens when two Slayers are... together." He dropped her hand, slowly. 

When she didn't say anything, he turned, beckoning her to continue walking. Giving her a chance to cover her confusion, he started speaking quietly, as if they had been discussing the weather. 

"I don't know what you've been through," he began, "but I only know that every lover I've had... some lasted long, some didn't, but even the good ones - the ones I thought I couldn't live without - just seemed to get burned out on me." He shrugged. "I always thought it was because they could sense the demon side of me. I never thought it had anything to do with the other strange things about me, like sensing vampires or quick reflexes." 

"You didn't know you were a Slayer?" 

"I didn't know what I was, except for being a half-demon, half-human, half-orphan." He smiled at her. "I didn't have a name for it until a few months ago." 

"Then how did you know I was a Slayer?" 

"You smelled like those other -" He cut himself off, unwilling to do any more reminiscing about his childhood. "Besides, I told you, I've dreamt about you. I figured it out, once I met you. I'm not completely dense." He smiled wryly and added, "just ignorant." 

Too unsettled to smile in return, Buffy just nodded. 

"So I don't know what a lover feels, either," he continued. "At least, no one ever said my strange quirks were the specific reason. Well, they did, but it wasn't Slayer-quirks." 

"Uh... can I ask you a personal question?" Buffy's voice was hesitant, but with a hint of skepticism. She glanced over at him. "Just how many..." 

Marcus chuckled, an unexpected noise in the quiet, and shrugged. "Told you, I went to an all-boys' school." 

"So you never saw girls until college?" 

"Hardly. A school full of just boys? We had a mixer with the nearby girls' school every weekend. It was a frenzy of hormones." Marcus grinned smugly at the memories. 

"I thought you said you weren't used to talking," she said, suspicious. 

"I'm not." He winked at her. "Between dances, our mouths were moving plenty but we weren't talking." She caught his mischievous expression and rolled her eyes in response. He smiled, and continued. "That's why Monday was the weekly torture fest for me, since few of my classmates cared for the notion that I was sullen, reclusive... and a hit with the girls." Buffy's face registered surprise, and Marcus snorted. "I can dance." 

"Dance?" Buffy was still skeptical. "Guys don't dance. They either stand around and refuse to dance when it's a fast song, or they stand in one place and sway." She thought for a moment. "Except Xander. He'll dance." 

Marcus laughed softly. "I don't mean twitching like road kill, I mean dancing. We had formal dances. The whole white gloves and dinner jackets thing. The girls wore formal gowns. The usual stuffy British manner." He stole a glance up and down the empty street, and took her by the hand. Buffy felt the familiar _frisson_ before following his lead. "My tutors, though, taught me etiquette and dancing, along with geography and Latin." 

"Latin?" Buffy made a face at him. "Just how many languages..." 

"Seven," he said, as he carefully placed Buffy's right hand on his left bicep. "Two of which are dead." Before Buffy could question that statement, he'd moved a step closer, and she caught her breath. 

"This is where you keep your hand, unless you're wearing heels or," he scrunched down suddenly, and Buffy giggled, "I were shorter. If you were wearing a long dress, you'd be holding it out with that hand. Then my hand goes here, not on your waist but above it, and I hold my arm out like so." He held his right arm out, slightly bent, with his palm facing up. "Put your left hand in mine." 

Buffy did so, instinctively grasping his hand tightly, and he shook his head as he jiggled her arm a little to get her to relax. "No, don't hold on, just lay your hand across mine. Think of it like just delicately floating, barely laying a hand on me." 

"Delicate, nothing," Buffy muttered. "I feel like an idiot." She craned her neck around to see behind her. 

"No one's coming," Marcus informed her tolerantly. "And no, no one's watching, either. You don't believe a guy can dance, now's your chance." He poked her in the ribs with his thumb, and she squeaked. "And if you can't dance, I'll be shocked." 

Defiantly, Buffy raised her chin. "Of course I can dance. It's just like fighting but, uh, the steps are planned out." She made a face. "And the music's better." 

"You've never suffered through three hours of waltzes." Marcus smirked. Buffy frowned in concentration as he directed her to look at his eyes, and not her own feet. "First, take one step back with your left foot," he said, then flinched as she stepped forward with her right foot and kicked him in the shins. 

"The other left, love," he told her, wincing slightly. 

"Sorry." 

He smiled at her again, patient, and started over. After several stumbles, she stopped worrying about her feet and focused on his face as he counted out the steps for her. Another few minutes and she realized he was picking up the pace a little. Breathlessly she glanced around as she took two steps backwards, a step to the side and turned. 

"Are we supposed to go this fast," she asked him, dubious. "I'm getting dizzy." 

"We're at half-speed right now," he remarked, unruffled. Their feet were almost silent on the pavement, except for the occasional scraping as she miss-stepped. Buffy realized she was making fewer mistakes as she figured out how to balance his movements with her own. 

"My dance instructor," Marcus said softly, "used to say that to dance well, no one leads. It's like it all exists in the space between you, and you're dancing around the edges together," he explained. He gave her an abashed look. "I'm afraid I spent a number of years pretending that made sense." 

"No," Buffy shook her head as they spun again, their shadows soft in the half-light from the streetlamp down the block. "It doesn't work if one is stronger." She thought about what she'd said, as Marcus hummed quietly, no longer counting. His voice was mellifluous but his eyes were steady on hers. "The power isn't in one, it's in the middle. And that made sense in my head." 

A smile flashed across Marcus' face as he stopped humming to answer. "So maybe you should only dance with Slayers?"

She made a face. "Hope not. It's not like there's a whole bunch lined up out there." He chuckled, and she smiled wryly. _Bet Faith couldn't dance like this. _"So we just do this until the, uh, song is over?" 

"Yeah. Or we could go in the opposite direction." 

Without warning Marcus spun her quickly to the left, taking long strides that doubled their speed. He'd slowed back to a leisurely pace before she realized she'd reacted instinctively to his moves and hadn't stepped on his toes or kicked him in the shins. Impressed with herself, she smiled at him, promptly missed a beat, stepped wrong, and ran right into him. He clutched at her as she jumped back and nearly fell, but he was already laughing, and she quickly joined him. 

"Well, so much for my career as a ballroom dancer," she told him. "At least in ice skating I was always solo." 

"Just like Slaying?" He chuckled as he followed her back to the sidewalk. 

"I guess," she replied. They walked in silence for a short pace, until she nodded in the direction of a small bungalow, set back from the street a short distance. "That's my house." 

Buffy led the way up the sidewalk. "Thanks for teaching me to dance," she offered, still a little flustered. 

"My pleasure," he responded as he followed her onto the porch. They stood in the darkness, disconcerted, for several seconds. Buffy wasn't moving, Marcus realized, nor had she pulled out her house keys. 

"I've not told you everything," she whispered. "And I won't. It's too long, and I'm not ready yet. But I still want to know, because I'm not going to go through that again without..." Buffy swallowed hard, determination and pain etched across her face. "I want to know, just this once, and I don't want to live... wondering." Her words trailed off, and she bit her lip, watching him. 

Perplexed, Marcus nodded. He instinctively leant forward to hear what she'd said, trying to appreciate her point of view despite the fact that he had no clue what she was talking about. Before he could open his mouth to speak, though, her hands were on his shoulders and her lips were gently against his. Instinctively he placed his hands around her waist, sensing immediately that she was poised on her toes. He leaned over and she settled back down onto her feet. He bit back a gasp as he felt her probe his lips open with her tongue. 

The air crackled, and the palms of his hands tingled against her hips as he pulled her closer. Tenderly, then voraciously, he responded, bewildered but enjoying it. Her hands moved to his arms, and then back to his neck, as she wrapped her arms around him, pinning him tightly as they continued to kiss. He trembled. 

_This is it,_ he thought, _even I have to come up for air at some point, but if there's any way to go..._ The thought was swept away in a soft shudder as she pressed her hips up against his, pushing her knee between his legs. Light and dark flashed against the inside of Marcus' eyelids, and he could feel her rapid heartbeat against his chest. 

The kiss ended. Marcus' hands dug into Buffy's waist, holding her close. Her breathing was ragged in his ear as her arms remained wrapped tightly around his shoulders. Slowly they pulled back, staring at each other. Marcus was the first one to try to speak. 

"I..." he stared, and smiled sadly as he realized he couldn't manage it. Clearing his throat gently, he averted his eyes as Buffy slowly disentangled herself. She stepped back, and glanced up at him under her eyelashes. He tried again. "I'm sorry," he whispered. 

"No," she said, and sighed deeply, as if relieved. "Don't be. I started it. I just... sometimes get worried that I'm so scared, after losing... everything, that I..." At Marcus' puzzled glance, she shrugged. "I wanted to know. I guess that was kind of selfish of me, but I figured it might be my only..." 

"I understand," Marcus interjected, as he took her hand. "But I don't know if I'm a good example. I mean, your other lovers, you were in love..." 

"Duh... I mean, yeah. I suppose." Buffy shot Marcus a glance, but he couldn't read her expression. She didn't pull her hand back, however, and after a minute, she glanced down at their entwined hands. Her expression was sad, and distant. 

"That makes all the difference in the world," Marcus replied, so softly that Buffy had to strain to hear his words. "I feel a connection with you, a kinship unlike anything I've ever felt with someone before, on any level. But I'm not in love with you. That is," he stumbled over his words, "I mean, I could. You are, lovable, I mean..." 

"It's okay," she said, "I got the picture." 

Marcus shook his head. "I wanted to kiss you, too, because I wanted to know. But I in my head, I'm seeing someone else, and that probably makes kissing me kind of... hollow." He smiled sadly. 

Buffy blinked, surprised, and squinted up into his face, trying to read his expression. 

He expression was wistful, and his wide gray eyes stared down at her, open and vulnerable. "Maybe it's nothing. But it's there. A part of me is in love with the Slayer... the girl in my dreams." 

Buffy couldn't suppress a barking laugh. "Faith? You're in love with Faith? Get real." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Marcus froze. She knew immediately that her response had been the wrong one. "Insert foot up to hip," she muttered, half to herself. "That was bad of me," she told him. "It's just that Faith and I..." 

"Don't have the best history," he said stiffly, his tone still hurt but recovering. "I never realized it meant you were both alive, but I've seen you fighting in..." 

"We've done a lot of that," she said quickly. "But I still don't think you could be -" 

Marcus' tone was guarded, but dangerously quiet. "You're not in my head. I wouldn't expect you to know how I could love the Slayer." She bristled for a moment to hear someone other than herself described as the Slayer. Marcus noticed. When he spoke again, his voice was gentle. "After all, I'm not really sure myself, either." 

"You're right," she interrupted. "I mean, that I can't know what's in your head. I know you're not in love with me, and I know I'm not in love with you. And although I'll never understand what..." her voice choked suddenly, and it took her a second before she could continue. "Anyway, I just wanted to know what it was like, what they felt. But you're right, it's not the same." 

"But not bad," he countered, smiling. 

"No." She smiled up at him shyly. "Quite nice." 

"You're an excellent kisser," he said dryly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Before she could respond, he leaned over and brushed his lips against her cheek, holding still for a moment before releasing her. With a quick formal nod and a whispered promise of seeing her in the morning, he silently took his leave. 

Buffy remained on the porch for several more minutes, watching him until he was no longer in sight. She shook herself out of her reverie, and dug out her house keys to let herself in.

  


_[~ continue to next chapter ~][1]_

   [1]: 21-12.htm



	22. Chapter 21

dark alchemy : part IV - Fermentation : Chapter Twenty-One

  
**

chapter twenty-one

**

Talking Drum 

Simon woke up and for a second couldn't remember where he was or what had woken him up. As the day's events flooded back to him, he smiled into the darkness. Turning on his side, he could barely make out the clock on the mantle. He reached out and twitched the curtain, and the porch light leaked into the room enough for him to make out the time. Two-thirty. 

Simon held the curtain open a little longer, looking at the picture frames lining the mantle on either side of the small clock before letting go of the curtain and rolling onto his back. He drew in a deep breath, holding it in his lungs for a long moment in a wishful attempt to freeze time. He didn't want to lose this sensation, this intuition that this is what it must feel like to be home. The texture and fragrance of the house was pure female. It was Buffy. It was Dawn. Though he only knew her through the photos on the wall, it was their mother as well. This house was completion: sister, soul mate, mother... home. 

He was exhausted but wired. His body resonated with his surroundings. Every time he closed his eyes, his lids wouldn't obey, as if held open by invisible springs. In the dark, he could see the outlines of the frilly things in the room. Lace curtains, picture frames, a porcelain lamp. They all bore the unmistakable mark of the female energy of the dwelling's occupants. 

The sense of rightness and comfort soon gave way to a familiar queasiness, followed soon by an unwelcome light. Like fireflies spontaneously generating from a dimension darker than night, the purple and magenta streaks began to emerge from the void. This wasn't like any migraine he'd had. This was no waking dream. Distantly, Simon realized he was asleep. 

The purple-red fireflies increased in frequency and grew larger as their rhythms began to change from random energy to pulsing synchronization. The pulses began to circle and engulf him, like being trapped in a jet turbine. There was a fluttering sensation in his chest that grew to pounding, like his heart was touching the edges of the flapping fan blades. 

A voice whispered: "Remember." 

There was a distant scream and the turbine blades metamorphosed into a brilliant strobe. Light illuminated and concealed the room around him with the rhythm of a heartbeat. 

_Flash_ - Darkness. _flash_ - Darkness. _flash_ - Darkness. 

The dark intervals distorted, becoming indistinct two-dimensional images before shifting again into motion. 

_flash_ - 

  
Little One 

  
He stumbled frantically from the passageway and ran through the scriptorium, piled books grasping at his robes as he ran. He could hear the call, imploring his return, sensual and enticing. It promised riches and pleasure beyond compare, and yet promised pain beyond all comprehension. His thoughts turned inward and knew a few moments of calm, focusing on his destination. His hunters saw his desperate stumble on the bottom step become a calm lope as he took the stairs two at a time. Fighting his fear, his panic lessened and his breath steadied. The calls responded with mocking angry tones. He tried to retain the calm but couldn't block out the howling voices. His skin began to burn. His blood writhed, as images past, present and possible materialized from threatened torment to reality. 

He was so tired of running and longed to lie down and rest, but he refused to surrender. Each time he thought he was certainly at the limits of his endurance, when his legs begged to stop, to bend and lower his shaking body to the ground, a distant light encouraged him to fight back. He forced himself to keep going. In the distance, he could see the end of the long torch-lit passage. The haze shining in his eyes mingled with the strange light flickering into the passageway... 

  
Talking Drum 

  
_flash_ - 

He was standing in a darkened library, and there was a woman with him. She was rail-thin, raven-haired with cobra eyes. He couldn't avert his gaze from hers. They were joined eye-to-eye by invisible glass threads, but the threads shattered when the woman made a furious gesture across him with her hand. 

Crimson-polished talons sliced deeply into his neck. The woman retreated as the corners of her mouth moved upwards, a delighted smile. Simon's hand moved reflexively out to protect himself with such a force that his ring came off his hand, shooting through the air shattering a small figurine on the mantle and embedding shrapnel into the wall like buckshot. 

Dawn had been tossing and turning, unable to find a comfortable position in which to fall asleep. She repeatedly flipped the pillow over to feel the cool relief of the other side, but her face was so flushed that it made the pillowcase feel as warm as if it had just come out of the dryer. She kicked out the sheets and blankets and flung them back, but within a matter of seconds, she was chilly again. 

When she pulled the coverings back over her, she was too warm, almost feverish. She felt like she had had too much caffeine, but the discomfort was somehow pleasurable. _ I wonder if this is how Buffy felt when she met Angel? Or Willow when she and Tara first..._

_flash_ - 

Simon blinked, and discovered he and Dawn were together, part of each other, seeing through the same eyes. Looking around curiously, he realized they were in the kitchen, a butcher knife in their right hand. The blade tip pierced the skin of the left arm, but curiously, there was relatively little pain after the initial incision. The sticky warmth flowed out, life draining away. A chill washed over their body. 

_flash_ - 

It was pitch black. There was a tremendous weight on his chest, pressure on all sides of his body and firmly pressing in on his limbs, trunk, and head. There was a rough, damp and gritty substance encasing him. Gravel and tiny stones pressed on his exposed skin, a duller sensation of discomfort through the fabric covering his body. 

_flash_ - 

Now he was clawing furiously, lying on his back, thrusting upward. Gritty chunks of soil and rock forced their way under each nail with each movement of fingers and hands. 

_flash_ - 

Confused, he turned to find himself a phantom observer at a freshly tamped-down gravesite. The dirt mound began to jostle. Something emerged from the ground. 

_flash_ - 

He turned and found himself outside Dawn's house, late at night. Agitated sounds emanated from one of the ground floor windows. Through the lace of the curtains, he could see two girls engaged in an emotional exchange. 

_flash_ - 

He turned again, and was in the living room. Someone was knocking at the door. He moved into the foyer as the doorknob turned and the door gently swung open. There was a woman standing there, her expression confused, and shocked pain reflected in her eyes. There was black soil embedded in her ears and lining the rim of her nostrils, eyes, and lips. The dirt exaggerated her face's once gentle lines like overdone stage makeup for a Shakespearean horror. 

_flash_ - 

He could see himself through a veil of deep red from the edge of the doorway. The pain was excruciating, saturating every muscle. As it passed all tolerance, the sensation ceased and he was - 

_flash_ - 

- again looking at the woman. She firmly grabbed him on each arm just below the shoulder and he cried aloud at the painful grip. Five deep bruises appeared on his arms as her fingers dug in deeper and deeper. 

"How could you do this to me?" she screeched, her voice tinged with pain and betrayal. 

Simon couldn't take any more, and shook his head at the images and sensations unfolding in this chamber of terrors. He screamed, a shout of fury. 

**NO! **This is not my memory! 

_flash_ - 

There was a loud ripping sound like stiff paper torn to pieces. The woman's body instantly vaporized. A thin wisp of white smoke trailed out the door, swiftly slithering across the front lawn and finally disappearing in the direction of the graveyard. The scene vanished into another 

_flash_ - 

of absolute white. 

  
Lady Starlight 

  


Somewhere downstairs, someone screamed. Dawn sat straight up in terror, her adolescent romantic restlessness forgotten. 

She rolled off the bed onto her feet and tore out of her bedroom into the hallway and reached for the stair railing but missed and hit the back of her hand. She instantly felt the bruising pain radiate across her hand, but got a grip on the railing and took the stairs down two at a time, crossing the foyer in a panicked leap. 

"Simon?" Dawn called out, as she flipped on the light. She looked over to see Simon sitting straight up on the bed, his face contorted in terror. Buffy was right behind her, and immediately switched on a second light as she asked Simon what had happened. 

  
Solitude1056 

  


Buffy perched on the edge of the chair, and Simon sat on the sofa bed facing her. Dawn sat next to Simon, uncertain. 

  
Bess 

  
"Just a nightmare." The edge in Buffy's voice had faded. She sounded tired. 

Simon was still sitting on the sofa bed, the comforter wound in his fingers, his face drawn. "Not just a nightmare. It was... The woman in the picture," he whispered, nodding his head at the pictures lining the fireplace mantle. "She... she'd come back." 

Buffy's face paled, and Dawn gasped quietly. Simon closed his eyes, unable to speak, his lips drawn in a thin apologetic line. 

"I'm sorry," he added softly. "I have... I have these dreams, sometimes. I didn't mean to hurt you. I wouldn't have said... 'cept that usually they're right. Once, when I was with Jessie - she was my, uh, girlfriend, she's my ex-girlfriend now." Simon gave Dawn a half-smile, trying to reassure her, and Dawn did her best to smile back, still dismayed. 

"Jessie had a bad time of it as a kid," Simon continued. "I had a dream like the one tonight, about her. It was really... horrible. We didn't go out much after that. She said that she had enough problems of her own without her boyfriend picking her nightmares out of her head and rerunning them in Technicolor." Simon looked away from Buffy, still embarrassed. "But I guess I just have to get used to weird dreams about other people that are completely wrong, since this is the third..." He shrugged and looked away. 

Buffy and Dawn exchanged a pointed look, and Dawn bit her lip. Steeling herself, Buffy took a deep breath. 

"Simon," Buffy started, then stopped and tried again. "What do you mean, the third? You've had this dream before?" Simon shook his head.

"No, a different one." For a long time, he didn't say anything. Then he seemed to come to a decision, looking at Buffy, his jaw set in a stern line. "I was in Hell." 

Buffy watched his face, impassive. 

"For about a year. Thought I'd die." Simon half-smiled. "Was almost sure I had. And you - you got me out." 

Buffy nodded. 

"I didn't remember anything," he continued. "You couldn't last in there, remembering." For a moment his eyes flashed, and he was underground again until it passed. 

"One year." Buffy interjected. "That's an hour, maybe less, in our dimension." 

"I've been told that. Although I'm not sure exactly how old I am, anyway. So I just say it was a year. But then I was out. With no memory. And I didn't want to be in LA, so I wandered for awhile." As he spoke about life on the road, he seemed to calm down. Apparently whatever he'd suffered stung worse when repeated. 

"At first I was looking for you, in a way," he explained, inclining his head at Buffy. "Then just looking for someplace to call home. I ended up back in L.A., and met a waitress named Anne." 

"Anne?" Dawn's voice returned suddenly at the mention of the name. 

"She'd started a shelter. Tall, blonde, and somehow reminded me of Buffy. She gave me a shot, you know? There aren't a lot of people willing to take chances on some skinny runaway." He glanced around the room quickly, and at the people who'd taken him in. 

"Just the special ones," he mumbled, embarrassed. "Anyway, I started working as a cook at the shelter, then got a job, and it started to straighten itself out. I didn't have to know who I used to be. I got along with people. Anne depended on me a lot, for the younger kids. The brand-new kitchen model Simon was okay with me." He grinned. 

"But the dreams." Buffy mentioned suddenly. "Otherwise you'd still be there, right?" 

"Yeah." Simon waited a bit, and the sisters waited with him, while he fiddled with the edge of the comforter. After a minute, he continued speaking. 

"I, uh, I dreamed of Anne... getting a tattoo. I told her, and she was freaked that I knew how she'd gotten it, and the guy she'd been with. She wasn't happy at first, but we kept talking... And that's when she told me..." 

"She'd been there too." Buffy's voice was flat, but kind. Dawn quietly made her way to the chair by Buffy, sitting down on the arm next to her sister. Not touching, but close enough. 

Simon looked at Buffy, startled. "Right. How'd - oh, yeah. Stupid me. Anne had been there, too. And then, I guess about five months ago..." Simon bit his lip and whispered very quietly. "I dreamed that you'd died." 

Someone inhaled sharply, and Simon glanced up to see Buffy's face had gone white as a sheet. 

"I'm really sorry," he blurted. "I've got to sound like the biggest weirdo. I'm sitting here telling you I had a dream about you. It's like a bad soap opera," he joked, not feeling it was terribly funny at all, "and I'm really sorry. If you want me to go, I'll-" 

"No." Buffy's mouth formed the 'o' carefully, lips tight and pale. "No. You can stay. Just... keep talking." Dawn's hand crept into hers, and she held it tightly. 

"They, they weren't... memories, about... escaping... because I'd had a couple of those. It was a dream about you flying. Falling... a long way. I was afraid it meant that you'd died. Other dreams I have about people, they come true, or they were true. I dream people's memories, I guess. But this one, it was too much, and told Anne. I had to know who you were, and if something had happened to you. I couldn't let her hide it anymore." 

"So she told you, and here you are?" 

"Not 'zactly. First she said it wasn't my business. She seemed to know a little bit more about you, but she didn't want to tell me. At first I thought it was because she didn't want to remember." The corner of his mouth quirked up. "Who would? But that it wasn't the reason, I thought. It was like she was protecting you. Like you'd been running from something awful too." 

_Yeah, her ex-boyfriend, _Dawn was tempted to say, but looked at Buffy's face and kept her mouth shut. 

"So I stopped talking to her about it," Simon continued. "Respecting Anne's privacy or something, and yours, but after a while, she told me she knew a detective who could find out. She said he'd know if anything had happened." 

A ghost of a smile played at Buffy's lips. _One guess who that detective might be. _

"Anyway... Anne came back from seeing the detective and told me you really were dead. I asked her if I could visit your grave, because I felt awful. In a way, almost like it was my fault, since I dreamed it, but she said that was silly." 

"What happened then," Dawn prompted, when Simon didn't say anything else. 

"Nothing... until a month ago. I had the dream again... but - backwards." 

"Like falling up?" Dawn's eyes were big, but her voice was still quiet. 

Simon nodded. "I think by that point I'd driven Anne halfway out of her mind, so she told me the name of your town, and said I could do what I wanted. What I really wanted was to visit the grave, leave flowers, or just, I don't know. I wanted to thank you, even if you weren't able to..." His voice trailed off while he thought about it. "I owed you that much. It took me a month to save up the bus fare. But she was wrong," he said hastily. His face was still faintly pink. "I searched all the newspapers and couldn't find an obituary, or any mention of a grave, and then I met Dawn... and came to your house, and you're just walking around, and I felt like the biggest sucker in the world, you know? That's why I didn't tell you the truth at first." 

"Hey, aren't you dead? isn't the greatest opening line I've ever heard." Buffy grinned, the lines disappearing from her face. "I get that." 

"I figured you'd think I was insane. Or tell me to get away from Dawn and have me run out of town." He grinned, relieved. 

"Nah. That's Spike's job." 

"Uh -" 

  
Bess 

  


"Never mind." Buffy mused absently. She ran her fingers through Dawn's hair while her sister half-pouted back at her. "Want to stay with us, at least for another night, before you go back to L.A.?" 

"Sure." He looked surprised, but grateful. "If it's not too much trouble." 

"Do you want to call somebody? Anne? Just to let her know where you are?" 

"I can try, but the shelter's phone was still disconnected when I left. I'll call tomorrow, if their phone's fixed. If you don't mind, I mean. No biggie. Anne's not the kind to freak out." He smiled. 

Satisfied, Buffy gave him a light tap on the arm by way of a goodnight, and took Dawn by the wrist. 

"Uh... goodnight!" Dawn called, over her shoulder, and Simon gave her a little tired wave. 

Upstairs in her own room, Dawn let her pent-up emotions spill out. "Wow!" she squeaked. 

Buffy grinned at her, sideways. _Irrepressible as ever. _She sat on her sister's bed for a moment, watching Dawn do a small dance of triumph. 

"Tomorrow night, we can rent a movie or something. Get a pizza. Celebrate." Buffy laughed as her sister collapsed on the bed next to her, still grinning widely. "We'll invite Spike," she added. 

Dawn gasped. 

"Kidding." Buffy rolled her eyes. 

"Only if you tell him it's a double date," Dawn replied sweetly, and Buffy creamed her with a bed pillow. 

  


_[~ continue to next chapter ~][1]_

   [1]: 22-12.htm



	23. Chapter 22

dark alchemy : part IV - Fermentation : Chapter Twenty-Two

  
**

chapter twenty-two

**

Lady Starlight 

Willow had stopped by before classes to drop off a few protection wards for Buffy and Dawn's house. Unfortunately, she'd also arrived right in on the middle of an argument between the two sisters. Waving at Buffy over Dawn's shoulder as Dawn yanked the door open, Willow quickly made her way into the living room, surprised to find a young man sitting on the sofa. Quietly they introduced themselves as Buffy and Dawn argued in the foyer. 

"No, you are not staying home today." Buffy crossed her arms. "I know you've got a math test, so don't even give me that look. Pack your stuff up, 'cause you're going." 

"You can't make me!" 

"Wanna bet?" 

"Are they always like this?" Simon whispered to Willow. 

"Oh, you bet," Willow replied airily. "In fact, this is nothing. Just good, clean, sister fighting." 

Momentarily interrupting their argument, Willow pointed out that she needed to get to class. The redheaded witch pulled out the box of wards, outlining instructions for their use. Buffy gave Willow a quick hug before seeing her to the door. In almost the same instant, Buffy rounded on Dawn and the argument began again right where it'd left off. 

Simon watched in dismay as the argument escalated to the point where Buffy was threatening to escort her sister to class daily and Dawn was promising total rebellion for a decade. Finally, he raised his voice to get Buffy's attention. When she turned in surprise and irritation, he smiled sweetly to disarm her. "I can walk with Dawn to school. The deli owner said he'd have work for me again if I wanted it, so that's where I'll be if you need me for anything." 

The two girls looked at each other warily. Buffy broke the silence first. "Okay. Dawn?" 

Dawn brightened up remarkably fast, but managed to save a sulky look for her sister's benefit as she grabbed her jacket and backpack. Simon went after her, calling softly over his shoulder to Buffy, "She'll be okay." Dawn was waiting on the front porch, and together they headed in the direction of her school. 

"Never let it be said that I stood in the way of higher learning," Buffy muttered. She closed the front door, feeling tired already. "I have got to take a shower." 

Simon hurried to keep up with Dawn. She was walking so quickly that he broke into a half-run to keep up with her. She was muttering her way through what sounded like an oft-repeated monologue. 

"Always telling me what to do. Go here, Dawn. Go there, Dawn. Don't do that, Dawn. No, you can't help." 

With a burst of speed, he managed to get in front of her. "Whoa. Stop for a minute." Dawn stopped, still sulking. Simon took her hand and said, "She's just worried about you." 

"I know, but it's really annoying sometimes," Dawn retorted, then sighed and rolled her eyes. She glanced down at Simon's hand still in hers, and smiled shyly. 

"Come on, let's see the place of torture you call school." He squeezed her hand. 

"Oh, it's not so bad. My art teacher's really nice and she says if I work really hard, I might get an A." She giggled and squeezed back. 

"See. Life is good." 

"It is... now." Dawn glanced down at their entwined hands again, and bit her lip before glancing back at Simon. Her gaze lingered for a second on his lips before meeting his eyes. 

"Come on, don't want you to be late and have the Big Bad Buffy mad at me." He tugged on her hand and they walked on. "What are you doing after school?" 

"Nothing. What do you want to do?" 

"There's a coffee shop by the deli. Why don't we meet up there and see what happens?" 

"Sounds good." As they neared the school, Dawn waved at a girl walking towards them from the opposite direction. 

"Who's that?" Simon asked. 

"That's my best friend." 

"Can I be second-best?" he teased, and Dawn blushed. 

Neither noticed a tall blonde girl blocking their path, until Dawn nearly walked into her. Kirstie whirled with a haughty expression, ready to snap at Dawn. Before Kirstie could speak, she caught sight of Simon, registering his slender height, large green eyes and thick shock of brown hair. The same quick glance informed her that Dawn was holding hands with this same cute stranger. Smiling coldly at Dawn, she turned the full power of her blue eyes on Simon. 

"You know, you could do much better. Like me for example." Kirstie licked her lips in her best attempt at adult seductiveness as she smiled at Simon flirtatiously. Dawn was so shocked she couldn't say anything. Ignoring Dawn's indignant expression, the blonde girl took another step closer to Simon and purred, "I'm Kirstie. And you are?" 

"Taken." Simon said flatly. _So this is the one who makes Dawn cry in bathrooms._ He looked Kirstie up and down, shrugged, and turned to Dawn, taking a step to the side to block Kirstie out of their conversation. "So after school at the coffee shop, right?" 

Dawn nodded, and managed a smile. He could tell she was still vividly aware that Kirstie hadn't moved, so he slid one hand around to the back of her neck and leaned in close. Just before their lips touched, he murmured, "Just go with it." The kiss seemed to go on and on. As they pulled away, Dawn smiled, looking at him from under her eyelashes as she remained leaning close to him. 

"Have fun today," Simon murmured with another quick kiss. Dawn nodded, stepping back with a smile, and Simon turned to walk away as if he'd completely forgotten that Kirstie was standing there. At the corner, he peeked back over his shoulder to see Dawn and her friend ignoring Kirstie, who was sputtering to a group of girls around her. He smiled to himself. _Score one for the good guys._

  
Liquidram 

  


Marcus stretched his arms, taking a deep breath in the morning air. He was sore, but calm. He circled Giles' apartment complex for the fifth time, taking it easy as he navigated a meandering path through the quiet mid-morning streets. 

_I talked to her. Really talked... _He was overwhelmed. Buffy had tested him physically past what he'd thought was his limit, and somehow he'd held his own. _Even got in a few good ones back on her, _he thought, impressed. _And she responded by trusting me._ It was an unfamiliar experience, but a pleasurable one. 

_ And even more than that, she's surrounded by this odd bunch who love her and each other. God help me, I want them to love me, too._ Shrugging off the tug of envy, he stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets. _I'm as bad as the vampire._

  
Solitude1056 

  


He'd spent the short walk from Buffy's house to Giles apartment, the night before, arguing with himself over kissing Buffy and his immediate response. _She just wanted to know, and I did, too. Bloody hell, I spent the whole evening hoping for a kiss... And instead, I ended up sounding like a jerk. _Marcus stopped, tired of berating himself for his rash words. His thoughts circled around again to the same conclusion he'd reached the night before. _I don't give a damn about the history between them. Doesn't change what I feel._ _But that still doesn't excuse being so harsh... _

Marcus had finally concluded, shortly before falling asleep at Giles', that the few minutes on Buffy's porch didn't scare him nearly as much as the fact that he'd been so open and forthcoming with her for several hours previous. What scared him even more was that their connection made him _want_ to be open with her, to allow her in where he'd always protected himself before. The thought that there was another Slayer out there, who might prompt the same feelings and electricity in him, scared him just a much, but excited him, too. It was like looking over the edge of a huge precipice; stomach churning, but exhilarating. 

  
Liquidram 

  
He was startled from his reverie when his shoulder clipped an old man walking in the opposite direction. "'Scuse me, sir, I didn't..." He abruptly silenced his apology, irritated. _My uncle. Lovely._

"Marcus. You're looking well." 

"Sarcasm doesn't flatter you. What brings you out of your hidey-hole?" Marcus fought to keep his expression studiously impassive. Catching his breath, he shrugged his jacket sleeves down a bit to cover the bruises mottling his wrists. 

The corner of Doc's lips curled in the beginning of a smile. "An old man needs his fresh air and exercise. Surprised to see you." 

"Thought I'd visit longer." Marcus kept his face politely blank, but his tone verged on sneering. "You made it quite clear you won't help me. It's certainly no business of yours what I choose to do." He thought briefly of angrily storming away and reconsidered. "You purposely left my bag for... strangers to find. It's bad enough I have to deal with the Bobbsey Twins, without your interference making it worse." 

Unflustered, Doc reached down and picked up a penny from the ground and twirled it around in his hand before handing it over to Marcus. "Heads, usually means good luck." He mumbled so softly, Marcus could barely hear him. Marcus looked at the penny, then raised his hand to toss it back onto the sidewalk. Before he could, Doc's hand closed over his in a vice grip. 

"Interference, hmmm? Interesting word, several meanings." He smiled at Marcus. "Heard tell my lovely daughter spent the better part of last evening chasing a taxi cab. She must have thought you'd taken to hiding in trunks. It was quite amusing." With one hand, Doc held Marcus' hand at the wrist. With the other, he pried open Marcus' fingers and took back the penny. "Seems to me those strangers saved your life." 

Marcus tried to pull his hand away but the old man held tight. "I don't get you. Why?" 

"You don't have to get me." Doc released Marcus' hand then dropped the penny into the front pocket of Marcus' jacket. "Consider it a freebie." He patted Marcus' chest. "There won't be another." Doc stepped around him, walking off without another word. 

  
Purplegrrl 

  


"You didn't tell me last night. How was patrolling?" asked Giles as he closed the door behind Buffy. 

"Still writing about me in your diary, Giles?" She grinned over her shoulder at him. 

"It's a journal and if you must know, yes, I am still keeping track of the fluctuation of demonic activity," her former Watcher replied rather stiffly. 

"It was a shutout. Vamps, zero, Buffy, five. No extra innings, unless you count the two Marcus got." 

"Good," Giles replied. "By the way, Marcus is dispersing his traces further, as he called it. Although I suspect he just needed some time to himself," he added, too quietly for Buffy to hear. 

Before she could ask him to repeat what he'd said, the phone rang. She waited while Giles answered it. 

"Hello? ... Oh, hello Wesley." 

Buffy wandered into the living room. She eyed the books and papers strewn across the coffee table and part of the floor. _Giles in research mode,_ she thought. Idly picking up some sheets of paper covered with Giles' handwriting, she pretended to read while eavesdropping on the phone conversation. 

"Really. ... Several months? ...I see. That is serious... Oh? ...Hmm, no idea." Giles picked up a pen. "Tell me again." He wrote something the pad by the phone, then glanced at Buffy. "I'll get back to you later today, I expect. What? Yes, tell Cordelia hello from all of us. Goodbye." 

Giles hung up the phone and looked over at Buffy. "That was Wesley." 

"Got that," replied Buffy. "What did he want?" 

"It seems Faith had a dream or a vision in which a tall, dark-haired man gave her a message." 

"I'm not surprised." 

"How's that?" 

"Faith locked up with a bunch of women? And she dreams about a guy? That makes her horny, not Prophecy Girl." 

"Buffy, please," Giles exclaimed, a little shocked. 

"Giles, you didn't know her like some of the rest of us did," Buffy reminded him. 

"Be that as it may. According to what Wesley told me, Faith appears to have had several visions of Marcus, and she's identified him as not only a Slayer, but as part-demon, too." 

"What?" Now it was Buffy's turn to be shocked. 

Misunderstanding her surprise, Giles continued. "It's not so surprising, Buffy. Technically, she is the active Slayer. So there's no reason why she wouldn't have prophetic dreams." 

"And what am I, chopped liver?" Buffy muttered grumpily. "Tell her to get her own dreams." 

"What was that?" 

"Never mind," she grumbled. Switching gears, she glanced at her watch. "I've got to run. Willow said she could meet me for lunch between classes." Before he could even respond, Buffy had grabbed her coat and was out the door. 

_Something's going on,_ he thought. _I'm not so old I don't know that game. Well, be that as it may, they'll figure it out._ He sat down at the table, staring at the message he'd written. Not more than a minute later, Marcus opened the door, a bag of groceries in one arm. Without a word, he went to the kitchen and began unloading the milk into the fridge.

Giles stared at his notes, and did his best to keep a straight face. 

Buffy straightened her shoulders before knocking on Willow's door. The short walk from Giles was a bit chilly, even with the late November sun beating down on the sidewalks. It had given her time to think, but all she'd managed to do was argue with herself. 

"Hey, Will," said Buffy when her friend answered the door. "What's for lunch?" 

"Hey yourself," replied Willow, closing the door after the Slayer entered. "Soup and sandwiches. Hope that's okay." 

"Sounds yummy." 

"You sit down while I dish up the soup." 

Leaving her coat on the couch, Buffy sat at the table in the cheery little kitchen. The autumn sun streaming through the window helped warm the small room. Buffy helped herself to a sandwich as she waited for Willow to finish ladling the steaming soup into bowls and join her at the table. 

"This looks great." 

Willow grinned happily. "Thanks." 

Between bites of sandwich and sips of soup, the two young women chatted, catching up on life's important trivia. 

"This soup's really good, Will." 

"Tara made it. She's much better in the kitchen than I am." 

"Maybe she can give me lessons," said Buffy ruefully. "I think I'm up to canned ravioli and tossed salad." 

"Have you thought about coming back to school?" 

"Some. But with taking incompletes in my classes last spring and not being here for part of this semester, I think I'm too far behind. Besides, I've got to think about Dawn." 

"How is Dawnie?" 

"Can I lock her in the basement until she's twenty-one?" 

"No, they have laws against that." 

"Then can I get her a scholarship to military school?" 

Willow giggled at the thought of Dawn playing the good little soldier. She stopped quickly when she saw Buffy's raised eyebrow. "Sorry, Buffy. But everything will work out okay. You'll see." 

"I hope you're right, Will." 

They ate in silence for a few moments before Buffy spoke again. "That's a cute top." 

Willow glanced down at her fuzzy pink sweater before answering. "This old thing? Buffy, you've seen this sweater a hundred times." She peered over at her friend, noticing how distracted she had become. "What's the matter?" 

Buffy laid down her spoon and pushed aside her nearly empty bowl. "I had a long talk with Marcus last night." 

"Ooh, that's good. Isn't it?" 

"Yes ... and no." 

Willow set down her own spoon. "Okay, from the beginning, spill." 

Buffy quickly explained about sparring, talking, and dancing - Willow's eyes widened at that part – before she got to the part of the evening she was trying unsuccessfully not to think about. 

"After he walked me home, we kissed. Or rather... I kissed him." 

"Ooh, sparkage!" beamed Willow. 

"Yeah. I mean, no. I mean..." Buffy fumbled for the right words to explain to her best friend what had happened between herself and Marcus. "It's not like that... mostly. It's... it's just that I wanted to see what it was like..." 

"Well, he is delicious," interrupted Willow. 

"No, he's not. I mean, he is. I just wondered what it would be like to be that close to someone who was connected to the Slayer energy. I mean, it's pretty much like he's a Slayer, only he's a guy, and older." 

Willow looked at her friend in silence, sensing there was more Buffy wasn't saying. After a moment Buffy continued. 

"Marcus says he's had dreams about me... and some of the other Slayers. He says he feels a connection to them... us." Buffy paused, anger and hurt making it difficult to get the words out. "He claims he's in love with Faith." 

Shock registered in Willow's wide eyes. "With Faith? Miss Kinks and Fetishes? You can't be serious." 

Buffy nodded her head sadly. "He made it sound like it was kind of hollow, kissing me. Okay, no, he said it was probably hollow for me kissing him, but still..." 

"Oh," was the only reply the redheaded witch could muster. 

The Slayer stood up and began to pace between the kitchen and the living room. "It's not that I think he needs to be in love with me. But Faith?" 

"You can't understand men, even if you live to be a hundred," offered Willow sagely. 

"Which is unlikely, given my profession." Buffy smiled wryly. 

Faith's words were cryptic. Frustrated, Marcus put down the sheet, his heart still fluttering at the realization that the one he'd been dreaming of had also been dreaming of him. "Look beyond The Twilight of the Gods to reach the end," he murmured out loud. "What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" 

"Marcus!" Giles said suddenly, louder than he intended. "Where is that Saxon book you had?" 

The younger man looked up. "In my backpack. Why?" 

"Get it. I think I know what she meant." 

Marcus retrieved the book in question and handed it to Giles, still not understanding why the older man wanted it. The book was a Late-Saxon translation of _The Prose Edda._ Relatively rare and fairly valuable, but just a book of Scandinavian myths by the third-century Icelandic poet, Snorri Sturluson. 

Holding the leather-bound book in his hand, Giles thought he knew what Faith had glimpsed through her Slayer-connection to Marcus. Turning to the end of the book, he began scanning the text. His Saxon was rusty but he could recognize the word Ragnarok. _The Twilight of the Gods, Götterdämmerung_, he read to himself. One of the myths Richard Wagner had based his Ring Cycle operas on, the story of the destruction of the Norse gods was the last one in the book. 

There were a few blank pages at the very end. Giles rubbed his fingers over them searching for any raised markings. Then he held the pages up to the light. Nothing on both accounts. Puzzled, he turned his attention to the endpaper that helped bind the pages to the cover. There was something odd about the paper. He compared it to the one at the front of the book. 

The endpaper in the back was newer, expertly distressed to look antique, and skillfully applied. Giles ran his hand over the paper. There was a slightly raised area, rectangular. A passing inspection might conclude it was the product of a deteriorating binding. 

Giles had a different thought. Hardly able to contain his anticipation, he took out his pocketknife. Carefully he slit the paper around the raised area. 

Marcus nearly yanked the book out of Giles' hands as he watched Giles cut into it. In addition to its value, his father had given him the book on his last birthday. He abruptly stopped when he saw what was revealed beneath the endpaper. 

Giles unfolded two sheets of paper-covered front and back with text and diagrams in Charles Siefer's now-familiar handwriting. Glancing over the pages, he was surprised to find they were written in English. Extraordinary, considering their value. He looked at Marcus. 

"Do you know what these are?" Giles asked, indicating the pages. 

"No," replied Marcus, shaking his head. "I didn't even know they were there." 

Giles looked at the young man who held the fate of future Slayers in his hands before answering. "It appears your father devised a ritual to reverse the transference of the Slayer energy." 

Despite everything he had learned about his father in the last day or two, Marcus was startled that Charles Siefer had had the magickal knowledge to create such a ritual. 

"May I see?" Marcus asked quietly. 

"Of course," replied Giles, handing him the pages. He watched as the younger man read. 

Marcus read for several minutes, carefully perusing the diagrams and symbols. Dismayed, he looked at this father's friend. "No idea. I'm sorry." He handed the papers back to Giles. 

Giles perused the papers again, reading them carefully before he lowered the sheets and removed his glasses. "This kind of ritual should take place on the full moon." 

Marcus was immediately anxious. "When is the next one?" 

Giles dug out his almanac and flipped through it. He dragged his forefinger down the listing for November and his face went very still. "Ten days from now."

"I don't think..." Marcus bit his lip, afraid to offend his father's friend. "I don't think I can hold off my cousins that long," he whispered reluctantly.

"We should call Willow and Tara," Giles replied as he put his glasses back on, studying the sheets again. "They may have some insight. And they could definitely help interpret some of these instructions, which may clarify our options." 

Giles made the call to the young women's apartment and asked them to come right away. He reported that Buffy was with Willow, and that they would wait for Tara, who should be returning from class soon. The three would arrive together. 

Willow hung up the phone and turned to Buffy. "That was Giles. They found a reversal ritual that Marcus' father devised. Giles wants Tara and me to help figure out the ritual." 

"They?" questioned Buffy. She tried not to think about a certain tall young man whose dark hair tended to fall in his face when he tilted his head down to look at her... Buffy shook herself mentally, and focused on Willow. 

"Him and Marcus," Willow replied. 

"Willow, I don't want to sound all wimpy and avoiding, but I can't go over there right now. This thing with Marcus is too ..." 

"Hey, it's okay," her friend sympathized. "You won't get any arguments from me about Faith the Bizarro Slayer." Willow enveloped Buffy in a comforting hug. 

"Thanks, Will, I needed that. Tell Giles I'll ..." started Buffy. 

"I'll just say you had errands to run or something," Willow told her. Buffy smiled and gave her friend another quick hug before heading out the door. 

While he and Marcus waited, Giles read through the pages again more carefully. Although most of the incantation was clear, some of the ritual's requirements were cryptic. He was still attempting to puzzle some of it out, forty-five minutes later, when the doorbell rang. 

Marcus nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of the bell. Since he was already up pacing the room like a nervous cat, he answered the door. He nodded to the two witches. Buffy wasn't with them. 

"Hey," Willow greeted Giles. She put her bag down on the table. 

"What can we do to help?" asked Tara. 

"We found the reversal ritual." Giles looked up. "Where's Buffy?" 

"She, uh, had some errands," Tara said as she seated herself on the chair nearest Giles. 

"But the ritual," interrupted Willow excitedly. "Where was it?" 

"Hidden in Marcus' book," Giles muttered, intent on reading the ritual for the seventh time. "There is a description of the ritual that we need to interpret before we can perform it. I thought you two could shed some light on the text. I confess I haven't been able to make heads or tails of it." 

Tara glanced at Marcus. "We'll do what we can, Mr. Giles." 

"Here," said Giles as he stood up and handed them the pages. He took off his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. 

Willow and Tara sat together on the couch and began to read. Marcus went back to pacing while Giles went to the kitchen to make some coffee. He was in the mood for something stronger than tea. 

After several minutes of relative silence in the apartment, the two witches began talking quietly between themselves. Marcus couldn't hear what they were saying and he was unable to control his nervous energy any longer. 

"What have you found?" he asked more harshly than he intended. 

Tara turned her head and smiled at Marcus. "Do you realize this single ritual may undo all the transference spells your mother performed on you over the years?" 

"It will?" Marcus exclaimed, stunned. He had been consumed with fear that any reversal would require an equal number of rituals as the original transference. 

"Breathe," Tara reminded him. Deflated, but excited, Marcus sank into the chair opposite the witches, completely speechless. Tara smiled kindly at him, then turned back to studying the ritual in Willow's hands. 

Coffee cup in hand, the former Watcher walked into the living room. 

"This is a difficult and complex ritual that your father devised," said Willow. "But it should work." 

"Should work?" asked Marcus nervously. 

"We won't know for sure unless we perform the ritual. But we can only do it at the specified time and place," Willow told him. "Otherwise it won't work at all." 

"There is that," Giles interrupted. Looking a bit upset, he coughed softly. "I've checked the almanac already. The next full moon is ten days from now."

Willow looked at him, deflated. Tara bit her lip. No one spoke. 

Marcus' voice, chilly with determination, broke the silence. "We can't wait that long. Figure out another ritual."

Willow frowned, twisting on the sofa to look at Marcus. "We can't just go messing with the ritual willy-nilly," she replied crossly. "We'll have to figure out -"

"Wait," Tara interjected. "I d-d-don't think this ritual is based on that. Marcus, when were you born? Date and time and location."

"August first, nineteen-seventy-six," he said, perplexed. "Aberdeen, Scotland. I don't know what time, sorry." 

"It's okay," Tara said. "Mr. Giles, do you have an Ephemeris?" As Giles searched for his Ephemeris of the moon, Tara explained. "I think this ritual is based on reflecting the moon's movements according to the natal chart, and the moon spends roughly two days in each sign, so the exact time of birth isn't as important for this detail." 

"It also means we have more windows for when to do it," Willow said as she intuited Tara's idea.

Giles looked up from the Ephemeris. "The moon was in Capricorn when Marcus was born," he announced. Willow glanced at Tara, her eyes wide. 

"What's the moon in now," Tara whispered, holding her breath. Giles flipped through the almanac.

"Capricorn," he said. 

Marcus closed his eyes, his face unreadable. The two witches clasped hands, clearly elated. Willow flashed a grin at Giles, who was downing the last of his coffee with a relieved look on his face.

"What about the rest of the ritual?" Giles asked. "What else do we need?" 

Tara picked up the sheets and perused them as she explained the rest of the ritual. 

"The reversal ritual must take place in an in-between place, a doorway if you will. A place and time that is neither one thing or another, yet all things." 

"When does the moon enter Pisces?" Willow asked Giles. 

He checked the almanac again. "One fifty-five in the morning."

Willow squeezed her lover's hand. "The ritual has to be done at midnight. We miss this, and we have to wait three weeks before the next opportunity." 

Tara smiled and turned to Marcus, including Giles in her explanation. "The description is very specific, once you understand what is being said. It's as if your father knew not only when the ritual must take place, but where it needed to be performed and who needed to be involved." 

"How so?" asked Giles. 

The blonde witch glanced at the redhead, who gave her a brief nod to continue. "First of all, there is the description of the ritual place - 'the meeting of roads in this plane and across the dimensions.' A crossroads is where two roads or streets intersect, and the Hellmouth is an intersection between our dimension and the demon dimensions. Therefore, the ritual must be held at the intersection closest to the Hellmouth." 

"And at midnight," piped up Willow. "You know, between twilight and dawn." 

Tara smiled indulgently at her and went on with her explanation. "The people who must assist in the ritual are also described. 'In the position of air and of life energy stands The Fool who contains the fullness of life's potential.' That would be Xander. 'In the position of spirit and of transformation stands the one who is twice changed yet remains of themselves.' That would be Anya." 

"Because she changed from human to vengeance demon and back again," Giles added, wondering why he hadn't made the connection himself. 

" 'In the position of water and of female energy stands the mother, friend, and lover.' That's..." 

"Me!" interrupted Willow with a grin. 

"Yes, sweetie," Tara said, sharing her smile before continuing. " 'In the position of fire and of male energy stands Judgment, the father figure.' That's you, Mr. Giles. 'In the position of earth and of the energy of death stands the one who is dead yet not dead, who lives yet is not alive.' That would be Spike." 

"Spike?" echoed Marcus, incredulous that a vampire would be included in such a ritual. 

"I think your father understood far more than we have given him credit for," said Giles. 

"That's becoming abundantly clear," replied Marcus dryly. "But what about me..?" 

"It's not clear," Tara told him. "It says 'All those who embody the power of creation, destruction, and preservation must be bound within the circle of salt and stone and flame,' But I'm not sure it's Buffy." Tara hesitated. 

"It's Faith," finished Giles. 

"Faith," Marcus echoed softly. _Faith._

"A second slayer was called after Buffy drowned briefly, several years ago," Giles started to explain, then saw Marcus nodding. 

"Buffy told me already," Marcus said. Giles looked surprised, and took his glasses off to rub his eyes. Sighing, he replaced them, pushing them up with a finger and settling them into place. 

"They're not going to spring Faith for a midnight shindig at a burnt-out high school," Willow observed dryly. She let it go without saying that she wasn't sure she'd want Faith sprung for any reason. She glanced at Tara, who shrugged helplessly. Willow sighed. "How can we get it to work without her there in person?" She caught Marcus' bewildered expression and told him, with a little shrug, "Faith's in jail, in Los Angeles." 

Marcus was stunned. _Jail?_

"Yes. That could pose a problem," mused Giles. "I've been meaning to call Wesley back." 

"Who's Wesley?" Marcus asked Willow and Tara as Giles looked up a number in a small book and began dialing. 

"Wesley is a former Watcher, like Giles. He was Buffy's Watcher for a while," Willow replied. "He works with Angel." 

"And Angel is...?" Marcus was completely lost. 

"Angel is..." Willow glanced at Tara before continuing. "Angel is a vampire. But he's got a soul, so he's one of the good guys." 

"Right," Marcus replied, still bewildered. 

Seeing his confusion, Willow launched into an explanation of the intricate relationships of the Slayer and those in her orbit. After a while, when Marcus had the names of all the players but was still a little unsure of their assigned roles, he guided the discussion back to the reversal ritual. 

"Why is the incantation in English rather than some arcane language?" he asked. 

"It is the power of the words themselves and the rhythm in which they are spoken that's important. Not the language they are written in," Tara explained. 

Giles hung up the phone. The other three looked at him expectantly. 

"Wesley thinks they can be ready for tonight. They'll call later to confirm," Giles told them. "That means we must be ready as well." Giles turned to Marcus. "Your cousins will likely try to interfere." 

"Most definitely," replied Marcus. 

  


[~ continue to next chapter ~][1]

   [1]: 23-12.htm



	24. Chapter 23

dark alchemy : part IV - Fermentation : Chapter Twenty-Three

  
**

chapter twenty-three

**

Purplegrrl 

Marcus had borrowed Giles' car to give Tara and Willow a ride back to the campus. Giles observed, with some amusement, that Buffy appeared only moments later. 

While Giles made tea, Buffy crossed to the table, leisurely pulling out one of the papers covered with Marcus' translations. _His handwriting really is atrocious,_ she thought, amused. _ Those Tudor guys taught him to dance but they couldn't teach him penmanship._

"So how does this thing work," she asked, and ruffled through the notes.

"The ritual will draw the Slayer energy out of Marcus and return it to the rightful lineage," he told her, taking the papers. 

"Ooh, a present for me," Buffy replied. 

"No. Faith." 

"Why her?" 

"Because she is the one who will call the next Slayer. Not you." 

"I try not to think about it." 

Giles hesitated a moment, taking off his glasses and putting them back on again before continuing. "You know, without your advantages, you could have been Faith," he reprimanded her gently. 

"What advantages? Fighting vampires and whatever other demon vacations on the Hellmouth or decides to make a name for themselves by taking on the Slayer? My nearly total lack of a social life? The boyfriends who leave as soon as dating the Slayer becomes too tough of a gig? That normal is no longer a word in my vocabulary? How many more times do I have to die to prove what advantages I don't have?" Buffy snapped, clearly not interested in listening to reason. "And now it's 'poor Faith?' " 

"You have your friends, your family, Angel, Riley, and ...me," he told her calmly. "You're probably the first Slayer in history to demand some semblance of a normal life. As unorthodox as it may be, it has worked to your advantage. You have not had to face the darkness alone." 

Buffy opened her mouth to speak, and promptly shut it again. She wasn't willing to concede his point, yet. 

"But," she started. Giles just looked at her, giving her one of those looks that only parents, and Watchers, could achieve. Buffy snorted and threw up her hands. "Jeesh! How can I be all Self-absorbed Girl with you looking at me like that?" 

"Perhaps it's time you dealt with your animosity towards Faith." 

"I don't want to have animal tea with her," she retorted. She was rewarded with another of those looks. The Slayer matched the Watcher's steely gaze with one of her own. She deliberately spoke slowly to make sure Giles understood her. "She attempted to frame me for murder. She put the moves on my boyfriend. Several boyfriends, actually. She tried to kill me. And when that failed, she tried to become me," Buffy reminded Giles. "Those are not the sorts of things a girl just forgets about." 

"Faith is paying for at least some of her mistakes." 

"And that makes everything okay?" asked Buffy in disbelief. 

Giles thought for a moment before responding. "No, I suppose it doesn't. But it is a step in the right direction." 

"Just as long as that direction is away from me." 

Giles took off his glasses. "Then you're probably not going to want to hear what I have to tell you." 

"What's that?" 

Sitting on the couch, he indicated the coffee table covered with books and papers. "What I've read in Charles' diaries indicates that the stolen energy must be properly returned. Right now, that energy is unstable. It is bound neither to its source nor to Marcus. That situation must be remedied. Either Marcus needs to be sealed off from the Slayer energy so that it can be allowed to renew itself or, preferably, the stolen energy needs to be returned to the source." 

Buffy plopped herself down in the wingback chair. "I'm still not sure how Faith figures into all of this." 

"When you died fighting the Master, the Slayer energy branched. After Xander revived you, you remained a Slayer. But you were no longer directly part of the active Slayer line. That passed to Kendra and then to Faith," Giles explained patiently. "And even though she is currently incarcerated, Faith is the conduit to the Slayer energy. She is the one to whom the stolen energy must be returned." 

"Well, that makes me feel like something green and fuzzy at the back of the fridge. I'm the one who's out there fighting evil night after night and she's the one who gets the toy surprise. What am I supposed to do, stand around and hold her cape?" Buffy asked angrily. 

"No," said Giles, shaking his head. "It's more than just being a stand-in for Faith. You must open yourself up to her. Allow the stolen energy to flow through you back to Faith." 

Buffy stood up and began to pace the living room. "I don't know if I can do that. What she did to me, to Angel, to my friends?" She shook her head as if to clear the images from her mind. "Did Wesley ever tell you how Faith tortured him?" 

"Yes," replied Giles quietly. "A manner remarkably similar to how Angelus tortured me," he added under his breath. 

Behind him, Buffy turned, then thought better of responding. She renewed her pacing. "I still don't think I can do it," she repeated. 

"You're going to have to let go of your anger and pain." Giles replied, unperturbed. "You're going to have to give Faith some measure of forgiveness." 

"She doesn't deserve it." 

"Buffy," said Giles gently. "We've had this discussion before. You don't forgive someone because they deserve it, but because they need it." 

"I know, I know. It's just so ..." she tried to explain. Buffy sat back down in the chair. 

"I know this is hard for you. If there were any other way, I wouldn't ask you to do this. But there is simply no way Faith can be physically present at the ritual." 

"Why would she have to be there anyway?" 

"We have to make sure the stolen energy is directed back to the correct source. Not just allowed to go out into the ether," explained Giles. 

Buffy ran her hands through her hair, still trying to get everything straight in her mind. After a while, she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her thighs and her chin in her hands. She looked at her Watcher. "What'll happen if we don't do this reversal thingy at all?" 

"Marcus will die. In fact, he may be dying already. His spirit will not be able to withstand the imbalance much longer. A year or two at the most." Giles paused, looking away from Buffy, his expression openly regretful at the harsh words. "Leaving him as he is because you don't want to help Faith is, in effect, signing his death warrant." 

Buffy felt a sudden surge of sadness for Marcus. _We do this, and even if he survives, he won't be the same. What I felt, it'll be gone. He'll be... a regular person. Everything I used to want. Would I take that chance now? _She was silent for a minute. "So we perform the ritual, and it's all peachy," she finally said out loud. 

"No." Giles removed his glasses and stared at them for a moment before putting them back on. "The original transference rituals were very demanding on Marcus, physically and emotionally. I expect the reversal will be equally so. The, uh, cumulative effect may be too much for him. There is a chance that Marcus may not survive the rituals." 

"So we're damned if we do and damned if we don't," Buffy said, dismayed. 

"That's one way of looking at it. Marcus appears willing to take that risk. He has hardly expressed interest in remaining a target for his cousins' ambitions," Giles observed dryly. 

"And I just need to get with the program? Is that what you're saying?" 

"Umm, not in so many words." 

"Come on, Giles. We've been through this enough times. I balk, you explain, I pout, and then we all do what needs to be done." 

"So, you'll do the reversal ritual?" 

"I'll do it for Marcus." 

"There's more to it than that." 

She sighed. "Yeah, I know. That's the part I need to psyche myself up for." 

  
Lady Starlight 

  


Dawn scanned the small coffee shop. Her face lit up when she saw Simon. He smiled back at her and motioned her over. She set her backpack down on her chair, and jerked her head at the counter, indicating she was going to get a drink. Simon got her meaning, and nodded, smiling. 

  
Methodica 

  
Dawn was singing along with the café's radio as she returned with a large cup of hot chocolate. 

_I think I need a change of scenery  
Oh what sunshine and laughter  
Just like my daydreams_

She realized she was singing out loud, and went red from her neck to the roots of her hair. 

"You have a beautiful voice. You should use it more often... Other then to scream at your sister," he added, teasing. 

"Thanks," she whispered sheepishly 

"What do you want to do?" 

"Whatever you want," Dawn replied, and beamed at him. 

"I asked you first," Simon said shyly, reaching to touch her hand. 

"I told you whatever you wanna do." 

"I want to hear you sing some more," he said. Dawn pretended she didn't hear him. 

  
Liquidram 

  


Anya flew into the main room of the Magic Box before the outside door had closed, the bell still tinkling softly. The expectant look on her face reserved for customers morphed into a genuine smile when she saw who the visitor was. Tara was caught off-guard when Anya grabbed her in a quick affectionate hug. 

"An-Anya, hi to you too," Tara choked out, shocked by the unprecedented display of affection from the girl. 

"Remember that huge ugly mustard-colored statue?" 

"Uh, the huge ugly-" 

"Odin," Anya repeated. Ignoring Tara's confused headshake, she continued chattering happily. "It's been here for as long as I can remember. Such an eyesore. I marked it down 75% last week to get rid of it, which I know loses money, but I was so sick of looking at it. Some old fogie comes in this morning. Here for an hour and wasn't buying anything. But on his way out the door, he noticed it. Tells me he's been looking everywhere for a statue like that and then says one hundred forty-nine dollars, right?" Anya paused, and shrugged nonchalantly. "It's not my fault that sign fell off." 

Tara took advantage of the pause to quickly hand Anya the list of items. The shop keeper's eyes narrowed at the mention of the expensive sphere of Elämä, but visibly brightened when Tara brought a wad of bills out of her pocket and laid them on the counter. 

"Is Elämä getting popular again?" Anya asked. "I sold a sphere last month. Hadn't run across that cult since I was-" 

"W-w-we found a ritual to undo Marcus," Tara interjected. "I mean, to undo the Slayer energy in him. It's tonight, we're meeting behind the old High School at eleven-thirty. We'll need you and Xander there," she added. 

"Oh, not giving me much time to track you down one, are you," Anya mused, tapping her finger on the list as she thought. "The one I sold was on back order for months with that Swedish company with the funny name." 

Tara furrowed her brows and looked at the list in Anya's hand. "It's necessary, we can't…" Her voice trailed off as she realized Anya was walking away. 

"I'll call the woman that bought it, she made a special order yesterday so I have her number here somewhere. She might loan it to us," Anya replied, already picking up the phone. Flustered, Tara could only nod while Anya made the phone call. After politely explaining the situation, Anya flashed Tara a thumb's-up sign, then said her goodbyes and hung up the phone. 

"You know, the thumbs-up sign is actually backwards," Anya commented as she helped Tara collect the rest of the items and began wrapping the more delicate ones. "I mean, it's a little before my time, but I heard that thumbs-up actually meant death." Amused by this twist on a familiar expression, Anya continued prattling about the strange gestures she'd seen in her time as a demon. Tara waited patiently until Anya finally took a breath. 

"Could you please add a couple amethyst crystals too," Tara asked hesitantly, hoping she had enough money for everything. Sometimes she really missed Giles not being at the shop everyday. 

"Willow still getting the nosebleeds?" Anya finished bagging the supplies and looked up at Tara with a concerned expression. Tara nodded as Anya wrote up the slip and figured out the change. "Well, you give her a hug for us, you know, me and Xander." 

Tara, smiled back at Anya, amazed once again. She pocketed the few pennies of change, remembering the not-so-distant past when Willow and the ex-demon could barely tolerate each other. Hefting the shopping bag, Tara gave Anya her sincere thanks as she left the shop. 

  
Lady Starlight 

  


Simon pulled his hand away and looked down at the table. "You know, I just wanted to say 'Thank you' to Buffy. But now I have trouble remembering she's the reason I'm here." Simon glanced sideways at Dawn, his green eyes catching the late afternoon light coming in through the shop's wide windows. "I keep getting distracted." 

"Distracted?" Dawn frowned, bewildered. She realized his meaning when she noticed his solemn expression was marred by the way a corner of his mouth kept turning up, making a dimple flash in his cheek. _Dimples are definitely a major plus, _she decided."Oh. Well, good. Cause I'm glad you came. I like you."

He raised his eyes to hers. He could see by the fierce expression on her face that she meant what she said. He tentatively took her hand again. "Cool, cause then I'd feel stupid liking you if you weren't liking me back." 

"You dork." She made a face at him. They fell silent, and Simon sipped his drink while Dawn went back to mixing the whipped cream into her drink. She was about to take a sip when Simon pulled something out of his pocket. "Um, Dawn? Here." She took the small object from his hand and gasped when she saw it was his ring. 

"Simon, but..." 

He shook his head, insisting, and she slid the silver band onto her thumb, the only finger it fit. 

"I want you to have it," he whispered. 

"Thank you, again. I love it." 

He leaned down and grabbed his backpack. "You up for walking? I was thinking you could give me a tour." 

She laughed. "A tour! Of Sunnydale? That'd take all of fifteen minutes." She stopped as she saw Simon freeze, his eyes widening as he looked towards the door. Dawn looked over her shoulder at the full coffee shop. "Simon, what's wrong?" 

  
Marie 

  


Simon glanced back at Dawn, his eyes wide as the old sensation washed over him. "Those two guys – I could've sworn... oh, never mind, must've imagined it." He tried to shake off the feeling they'd given him, or that they reminded him of the guards in Hell. 

"Imagined what?" Dawn asked, her curiosity piqued. 

"Shh... they're coming this way." As he said it, a shadow fell across the table, and Dawn looked up to see a tall man standing at her shoulder. Another had moved around to stand behind Simon. 

"We were just going," she said to them. "You want our table, you only have to ask." As she spoke, she rose, and experienced a feeling of relief when the man at her side moved back a step. Simon stood, and moved over to Dawn, placing a hand on her arm. 

Dawn pushed the coffee shop's door open, grimacing at the drizzle that had started while they were inside. Simon nudged her as she held the door open for him, and she risked a glance behind her. The two men were heading back towards the door. 

The teenagers looked at each other apprehensively, and Simon tugged Dawn's backpack off her shoulders as she ducked her head against the rain. He ignored her surprised look as he slung the bag over his shoulders, putting his arms through the straps and tightening it quickly as he nodded for her to start walking. They'd reached the corner, and the two men were only a few paces behind them. Simon slid his hand down her arm and gripped Dawn's hand, twining his fingers with hers. 

Leaning his head towards her, he spoke quietly, hardly moving his lips. "Dawn, I don't like the look of these guys. What say we make for your house?" 

She nodded imperceptibly. "Sure. Walk faster." She jerked her head to let Simon know the direction as the two men drew level with them, crowding them into the wall. 

"Hey!" Dawn said, indignant. "What are you doing?" 

For the first time, one of the men spoke. He had a strange accent, not American, not British. Dawn couldn't place it. "You must come with us." The man's gaze flickered back and forth between Dawn and Simon. His partner didn't say anything, but nodded imperceptibly. His tongue darted out and he licked his lips. Dawn shivered. 

"Who the hell are you?" Simon demanded fiercely. He shoved the nearer man, and pulled Dawn past them. "Run!" he cried. 

Dawn didn't need to hear it twice. Before the two men could react, the two teenagers were sprinting down the street, holding tightly to each other's hands. Their pursuers soon recovered from their surprise and were in full chase. 

The fitful drizzle was turning into a harder rain. Within minutes, both teenagers were soaking wet but paid it no mind, focused on getting away from the two men. They zigzagged madly across the emptying streets and back again, earning themselves raised fists and irate hoots from the few drivers out at that time of the evening. Simon's longer legs were leading the way, and Dawn struggled to keep up. 

"Where... are we... going?" Dawn gasped. 

"Hell if I know!" came the reply, as Simon tore around the next corner and across towards a swing park he could see a few hundred yards away. "I know I asked for a tour of Sunnydale," he added, "but... this wasn't exactly... what I had... in mind!" Dawn couldn't help giving a gasping laugh. 

All thought of laughter fled, though, when she glanced over he shoulder and saw not two men, as she expected, behind them, but at least six wolf-like creatures, large, silver-gray animals, who were loping after them, panting and growling. 

"Oh, God, Simon! Those men... they aren't!" 

"What?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder as he ran. "Geez... Dawn, for God's sake, run faster!" 

  


_[~ continue to next chapter ~][1]_

   [1]: 24-12.htm



	25. Chapter 24

dark alchemy : part IV - Fermentation : Chapter Twenty-Four

  
**

chapter twenty-four

**

Marie 

"Goodnight, come back soon!" 

Anya closed the door behind the departing customers, then turned and surveyed the empty shop, content after a long day of excellent sales. Two months of running it practically by herself, yet opening and closing the shop every day still gave her a wonderful sense of belonging. She wondered, c _an life get any better than this_? She had a sudden mental picture of Xander at home in bed, waiting for her. Anya smiled to herself as she decided that it certainly could. _And if he isn't already in bed, he soon will be. _

Anya had finished most of the day's register balancing before the last of her customers had gone, and there was little to do that couldn't wait until morning. She checked to make sure the back door was locked and everything else was secure. Anya picked up her keys, grabbed her coat and purse, and made her way towards the front of the shop. She had just started to reach for the handle when the door opened and Xander walked in. 

"Yikes!" Anya squeaked, then recovered to pout at him. "You scared me. What are you doing here? Is something wrong? You should be in bed." 

"Sorry, An, didn't mean to give you a heart attack." Xander laughed as he gave her a hello kiss. "Just thought I'd swing by and take my favorite girl out to eat. Err... in bed?" Sometimes Anya's thought processes still puzzled him, but experience had proven it was always interesting trying to figure them out. He smiled at her. "Never mind. Whaddya say, Italian? In the mood for doing the spaghetti tonight?" 

"You brought the car?" Anya pulled on her coat, and he straightened out her collar as she buttoned herself up. "Did you clean it? Last time I saw it, your tools covered everything." 

"Cleaned just this afternoon. Your chariot awaits," he added grandly, and put his arm around her shoulder. He gently pulled her out of the shop, taking the keys from her hand to lock the door behind them. The car was parked right in front of the shop, and in the early evening drizzle, everything glistened. 

Anya dashed to the car, glad to find it unlocked. As much as she liked people to come to the Magic Box, her feet always hurt at the end of the day. A ride home was bliss, and dinner on the way was even better. Seeing Xander striding around the car, his shoulders hunched against the rain, Anya smiled again, a quiet smile just for herself. _Life does get better_, she decided. _It gets better all the time_. 

Xander hopped in, and passed Anya back the shop keys. He started up the car and headed it towards Martinelli's, a small Italian restaurant just across town. It was quiet and cozy inside the darkened car. The only sound was the soft patter of the rain on the windows and smooth swish of the wipers, and Anya laid her hand on Xander's thigh. She stared out at the quiet streets, squeezing Xander's hand as he placed his over hers. The silence, she'd learned, was a good thing. _I like talking_, she thought, _but sometimes it's nice to just... be_. 

Some distance ahead of them, across the road, she suddenly noticed two people, and something else, following them. Startled, she sat up, letting go of Xander's hand to point. 

"Xander, look, it's Dawn! Someone's with her, and what -" 

Even as she spoke, she realized it must be the wolves. Xander had seen them a split second before Anya, and as she spoke, he put his foot down on the gas pedal. Anya nearly screamed as Xander pulled the car around in a high-speed turn, swerving the car sharply to turn down the street the fleeing figures had taken. 

_This is because I said life was good, right? Who's in charge of nasty jokes like this, anyway_, Anya thought, sparing a moment of irritation at the evening's sudden unpleasant turn. 

"Xander, we need to get Buffy," Anya announced. Xander shook his head. 

"No time. We've got to get her away from those things." 

"But..." Even as she started to protest, Anya realized that the wolves were too close to catching Dawn and her companion. Xander was right: there wasn't enough time. Anya turned to Xander, a tacit agreement to help. "How?" 

Xander didn't answer at first, concentrating on driving fast enough to catch up with the dark figures. The twilight and worsening rain hampered their speed. The windshield wipers swished rhythmically as he pushed himself to drive faster. 

Anya bit back an involuntary cry of protest as she held onto the door handle. _Xander will do what's right_, she reminded herself. _ I just wish that what's right isn't nearly always dangerous_. 

She strained to see ahead, and could just about make out the figures of Dawn and the boy ahead of them. The strange wolf-like creatures gleamed silver in the rain, and were moving in a strange manner. They were loping from side to side, sometimes almost getting ahead of Dawn and her companion before falling back again. 

"Those things are herding them!" she breathed, in a horrified whisper. "Marcus said there were _two_ wolf-cousins after him. There have to be at least six of them!" 

"Guess the family reunion got a little bigger, huh?" Xander replied, not taking his eyes from the figures ahead of them. "Listen, An, check under the blanket on the back seat - there should be a crossbow there. I think the bolts are under your seat." 

"What are you going to do?" 

"Well, sweetie, much as I'd like to catch a movie, right now, or even a plane, I guess I oughta see if Dawn and her pal need a ride, first." He turned his head and grinned at her. "Whaddya say, An?" 

_ I'm scared_, she thought, _but we took on a god. A few wolves are nothing._ Anya smiled back at him. "Go us!" 

"That's my girl!" he announced triumphantly. At the same time, he pressed his foot hard down on the gas pedal. The car fishtailed as they took a wild corner. Steeling himself, he pushed the car doubly fast in the rain. Anya finished loading the crossbow and gripped it in both hands, wishing Buffy would suddenly materialize, when she realized the two figures were nowhere in sight. 

"Xander, what are you doing?" she asked, confused. 

"Going around the block. I'm guessing they're just running straight forward, and we'll catch them head on." Xander's voice was tight, and his knuckles were white on the steering wheel. Anya closed her eyes momentarily as Xander careened around the next corner. "Let's hope Dawn sees us coming and recognizes the car." 

He took the last corner without touching the brake pedal, and not a second later Anya caught sight of the two figures down the block, obviously tiring. She pointed them out, and Xander nodded. 

"All doors unlocked now," he informed her as he undid the automatic locks on the car's doors. He let the car's speed drop. "Get ready with the crossbow." 

_Just as well it's not a longbow_, she thought with grim amusement. She wound the window down, the rain slapping her in the face as she did so. 

"Hold tight, I'm gonna take a wild turn," Xander warned her. 

"Don't hit Dawn," Anya reminded him anxiously. She sighted along the crossbow, blinking furiously as the rain hit her in the eyes. 

"I'm aiming for the wolves," he shouted back. Before she had time to draw breath, Xander veered a hard right onto the curb, careering dangerously up onto the sidewalk. Three of the wolves saw the oncoming headlights, and turned to face the car. Xander made right for them and Anya screamed, barely keeping her hold on the crossbow. 

There was a sickening _thump_ and a long, eerie howl. 

"I think I got one! Look out on your side!" Xander yelled as he fought to keep control of the car on the slick grass. 

Anya leaned from the window as one of the creatures came right at her. She took aim, squinted and fired, able to smell the wolf's fetid breath as she shot it point-blank. There was a dull thud. The wolf had dropped to the sidewalk, quivering in its death throes. 

Anya was busy rolling up her own window to deflect another wolf's lunge as Xander hit the gas pedal, racing the car across the neighborhood playground as he spun in a circle. Frantically Anya began reloading the crossbow. 

"Beats an iron skillet, doesn't it?" Xander yelled. 

She had no time to answer before she was flung across the seat, barely grabbing the door handle in time as Xander turned the car and accelerated towards Dawn and the boy. 

Simon suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. He gripped Dawn's hand tightly so that she had to stop, too, or fall. The wolves ran past the two without stopping, not recognizing Simon's maneuver as he pulled Dawn along with him towards the embankment on their right. Suddenly the two teenagers halted, caught by a car's blazing headlights as it headed straight for them. 

"What the-" Simon started to say something, but was interrupted by Dawn's squeal. 

"It's Xander! That's Xander's car," Dawn shouted. Instead of him pulling her, she was pulling him in a wild desperate dash towards the oncoming vehicle. 

The two kids had wheeled in a circle. Xander swore as he realized they couldn't hear him shouting with his window closed. The teenagers' rapid turn had caught the two lead wolves off-guard, and one had slipped in the wet grass, unable to turn so quickly. The other recovered faster, turning to snap at the boy's legs. 

"An - get the door on your side!" Xander shouted as he accelerated again, yanking the wheel hard to swerve. Xander came up behind the kids and hit the fourth wolf head on, missing the boy by a few inches as Anya reached back to fling the door open. Immediately she started rolling her window back down as fast as she could, the crossbow lying across her lap, ready. 

"I'm gonna get one more, if I can," she hollered at Xander over the rain. 

Dawn was screaming as she and Simon spun around to tear the door open and tumble in. The third wolf had regained its footing and was circling the car to catch up with them. Dawn caught the wolf's snapping jaws in the door as she slammed the door shut behind her. Anya turned in her seat, leaning out of the window and took aim. Releasing the mechanism, she was satisfied to see the crossbow take a solid hit in the wolf's shoulder. It yelped and jumped back. 

"Go, go, go!" she screamed at Xander, who didn't wait for a second invitation. They were all flung backwards as he slammed on the gas pedal and the car took off across the sidewalk, swerving to miss a mailbox before he yanked the wheel and pulled the car back onto the street. Anya finished rolling up the window and turned to see arms and legs in the air as the two young people tried to get untangled. 

Practically hysterical, the two were collapsed on the back seat, both crying and laughing at the same time. Exhausted from the chase and exhilarated by the rescue, they were high on adrenaline. 

"Ohmigod! Where did you come from? I've never been so glad to see anyone in my life! I was so scared, and oh, Buffy is _so_ gonna kill us - and we only went to the coffee shop! I'm gonna be grounded 'till I'm thirty!" 

"Yeah, well, all _I_ wanted was spaghetti," Xander replied, glancing in the rear-view mirror. Any remaining wolves had vanished. 

"You were awesome," the boy gasped as he caught his breath. "That was severe driving," he added with obvious admiration, before he looked at Anya. "But there were like six of them. How did you-" 

Anya held up the crossbow in answer. "Got two with this," she said complacently, and his eyes widened. 

"And we got two with the car," Xander added. His knuckles were still white on the wheel, his heart pounding fast. Anya laid the crossbow on her lap and reached across to put her hand back on his thigh. Immediately he placed his right hand over hers, glancing over at her with a proud smile. 

Turning to Dawn, Simon said, "These are your friends? You are so _lucky_." 

"Yeah." Dawn looked at Xander and Anya and smiled. "I am." 

"I'd like to know all about your new boyfriend, but first let's take you home," Anya said. "Then you can tell me, um, us, all about him." 

Xander caught sight of Dawn in the rear view mirror, rolling her eyes at Simon, and grinned. "Sorry, Dawn. You're both soaking wet, and besides, Buffy needs to know about this. Better get it over with, huh?" Looking both ways at the corner, he slowly took the turn towards the Summers' house.

After a minute, he leaned back with a sigh and another quick smile for Anya, driving for all the world as if he'd not just ripped tire tracks all over the local playground. 

Xander pulled the car up to the Summers' house and glanced into the rear-view mirror at Dawn and Simon. "Okay, guys, how about we calm down a little before we go in, hmm? Buffy'll have a heart attack if we go runnin' in there all hysterical." 

"Oh my God, she is so gonna go ballistic." Dawn sighed and turned to Simon. "Look, let me do the talking. That way only one of us gets blasted." 

Simon grinned at her. "Hey, there were two of us getting' chased back there – reckon there are two of us gonna get any blasting now." 

Dawn grimaced, and glanced at Xander and Anya. "He doesn't know Buffy," she observed, dismayed. 

Anya smiled sympathetically at the two soaked kids in the back seat. "She'll be fine, once she realises you aren't hurt. And I can tell her I shot some wolves and Xander ran some over. I can't wait!" 

As they got out of the car, the front door opened and Buffy came out onto the porch. "I've been calling everywhere, Dawn. Do you know how late it is? You know I've told you to call and let me know where you are. We do have an answering machine. That's what-" 

"Buffy, whoa! Let's go inside. We need to tell you something." Xander ushered them all inside as he spoke, with one last look up and down the street. It was empty, and he heaved a silent sigh of relief as he closed the door behind him. 

The others filed passed her silently into the living room. Dawn left momentarily and returned with a towel for Simon as she did her best to dry her hair. Simon laid his towel across the sofa for the two of them. Anya sat in one of the easy chairs, Xander perching next to her on the arm. 

"What's up?" asked Buffy, suspiciously, standing in the middle of the living room with her arms crossed. 

"We got chased," Simon blurted out. "By wolves!" 

"You what?" 

"We got chased," Dawn echoed, quieter, staring fixedly at the carpet. 

"Uh, well," Simon began, "we were in the coffee shop after Dawn finished school, just talking, and these guys came in, and they were, uh, weird. They followed us out, and started goin' on about how we had to go with them but we started runnin' then Xander and Anya came along, and ran into 'em and stuff, and Anya shot a couple of 'em with a nifty crossbow thing, y'know, it was cool, really..." Simon trailed to a halt. Buffy's face was a picture of conflicting emotions from his naïve recital. 

"Are you telling me that some of Marcus' cousins tried to kidnap the two of you?" she asked incredulously, and looked over at Xander and Anya for confirmation. "What the hell is going on?" 

"It's okay, Buffy, they're okay. They're fine. No-one got hurt, 'ceptin for a coupla ugly lookin' wolf-things." Xander glanced proudly at Anya. "And An, here. You shoulda seen her with that crossbow." 

"Oh, please. Though I _was_ good," Anya amended. "But you should've seen Xander. He was a regular Mary Angrotty." 

"Mario Andretti." Xander grinned at her. 

"Whatever." 

"Okay. Okay. Just give me a minute, here." Perching a hip on the arm of the couch, Buffy studied Simon and Dawn. "You're both soaked. Simon, go take a shower. Give Dawn your clothes to throw in the dryer." She glanced at Dawn. "And then it's your turn. I'm not having you catch a chill on top of everything else." 

  
Solitude1056 

  
Simon glanced at Dawn, who gave him an almost-imperceptible nod. Silently the two stood up and headed upstairs. Their hushed voices floated down the stairs, and Buffy waited until she heard the hot water running. 

"How many were there?" She asked Xander. 

"About six, I guess." Xander glanced at Anya, who nodded. 

"Ten, total?" 

"Oh," Anya interjected, as she caught Buffy's drift. "No, we took out four, though I'm not sure if I really got the last one - it may have just been injured. So two or three were left." 

"Where'd they go?" 

"Don't know," Xander said, and shrugged. "Once we got Simon and Dawn in the car, the other wolves did a vanishing act." 

Buffy contemplated this news, obviously unsettled. Finally she nodded at Xander and Anya, and exhaled deeply. "Then we've got to be ready if they interrupt the ritual tonight. I'll meet you at your place in two hours. I'm going to do some patrolling first." 

Xander looked confused, and Anya sighed. "I forgot to tell you," she said. "Tara came by the shop today to let me know. They've found a ritual that will take the Slayer energy back from Marcus." 

"Oh," Xander said, and gave the two women a lopsided smile. "I'll be glad when this is over... but I still can't figure out why they went after Dawn." 

"And will they be safe while we..." Anya caught Buffy's expression, and she left the sentence hanging.

"It's not like it's a town secret that Dawn's my sister." Buffy ran a hand through her hair. "Willow left some wards here, so they'll be safe as long as they stay in the house," she said. "God, I hate it when the bad guys think it's creative to do the hostage routine." 

  
Bess 

  


Dawn came downstairs, her head covered with a towel. Buffy was putting away clean dishes in the kitchen. Dawn waited until Buffy had set the last plate in the cabinet and shut the door. 

"You're just scared," Dawn observed calmly. Her sister's features immediately turned an angry and confused scarlet. 

"Scared of what?" Buffy's voice was soft and dangerous. Her tone could make most creatures, undead or not, step back in alarm, but Dawn shrugged it off. 

"That I'll get hurt. And I don't mean like 'paper-cut' hurt. Hurt like you. Like with Angel." 

"Don't go there." 

"Why not? Because you have a blindfold wrapped around that part of you? Oh, don't mention 1998 around Buffy!" Dawn threw up her hands. "Some things happen. We know that. Geez, I got my sides cut open by some creepy lizard guy. I can deal. But some things are supposed to be worth it, you know?" 

"Some things are worth it." Buffy's face softened. "Yes, I'm scared. But most people are scared of the unknown. The shadows they can't see the faces of. I know what I'm scared of, Dawn!" Buffy's calm voice broke. "It's ugly, and it's brutal, and it hurts. I gave away everything... I gave them Angel, I gave them myself, I gave them Mom!" 

"What are you talking about? Mom, she... you didn't..." 

"I know." The blonde ran a hand through her hair, trying not to cry. "But, Dawnie... every time... every time I think about her, I feel like... like I couldn't save her." 

"That's not true." Dawn's face was rigid. "It's not true. You, we, did everything for her. The doctors said so." 

"Yeah. But it's..." she grasped for words, "it's really... hard for me... to say I lost. But I lost. I gave up everything I ever loved. I let it go, because I had to. But not you." Her hands set on Dawn's shoulders. "I gave up everything else, but not you. I couldn't. I won't." Buffy smiled sadly, and Dawn placed her hands over her sister's. "And I'll still kill anything that tries to hurt you." 

"Overprotective much?" 

"Appropriately protective." 

"Oh, right." 

"Dawn... I'm sorry. It's wrong to... they're my fears, not yours. I can't stop you from living your life, right? Like you're so fond of telling me." They wrapped their arms around each other, and Dawn spoke from the muffled comfort of her sister's shoulder. 

"It's okay." _I shouldn't be so hard on her,_ she reminded herself. Dawn thought distantly of a certain lovesick bottle-blond. _She even stops herself from living her own life sometimes. _

  
Liquidram

  


_ The music blasted in his ears, swelling to a head splitting crescendo with each twirl on the dance floor. Her black eyes bore into his. The harder he tried to pull away from her slashing nails, the more hysterical her laughter. The music became less melodic with each bloody gash that opened on his chest until all that was left was his pain and the pounding drum. _

Spike jerked awake with a short cry, his eyes darting around his crypt. The dream faded. He laid back, his head pounding in synchronized beats with the rain falling on his roof and stared at nothing as he cursed himself again for losing his prized possession. After a few minutes, he drifted to the edge of sleep as he remembered. 

"What are you doing? Damn it, Spike!" Dawn's squeal assailed him. "You get the hell inside right now!" 

"Watch yer language." Spike grabbed his head between his hands. "What the 'ell you doing? Shouldn't you be in school?" He groaned with the effort it took to speak and fell back on the step, eyes closed. 

"It's five in the morning, you moron." Dawn growled at him, struggling to pull him up by the sleeve of his coat. "School doesn't start for hours. Besides," she gave up pulling on him, and dropped down on the step next to him. "I'm sick today." 

"Whaddaya mean yer sick? You look fine to me." Spike opened one eye to glance over at her. 

He knew Dawn had been getting up every morning for the past two weeks to sneak out and check on him, just as he was daring the sun to get to him before he made it inside. Before today though, she'd never actually confronted him. The rest of the gang, patrolling beside him nightly, had no idea of the despair and anger consuming him. Dawn alone understood how much he was suffering. She watched out for him... _but I'd rather she'd kept doing it from a distance._

"Maybe yer just not getting enough sleep." He spit out sarcastically. "Get on home before I have Wil over here threatening me with green hair or sumthin' worse." He was having trouble maintaining his level of irritation. It tickled him to have Dawn acting parental with him. 

"I'm not leaving until you get inside. I didn't bring my broom or I'd give you green hair myself." 

"Yer broom, eh? Witches teaching you how to fly?" 

Dawn smacked his shoulder and was relieved to see the flicker of a smirk on his face. She yanked on his coat again, prodding him to get up and inside. "I brought you a present, but you don't get it if you're dust." 

Spike perked up instantly. _A present. For me. _

"Lemme see it," he said, in a voice tinged with skepticism. 

Dawn shook her head wildly, hair flying around her shoulders. "Not until you get inside." With a wide grin, she hopped up and walked into the crypt. His curiosity piqued, Spike found the energy to get to his feet and stumble inside. 

"Now close your eyes and hold out your hand." 

Spike shook his head at Dawn, but did what she asked, surprised at the anticipation he felt. Something very light touched his fingers. 

"Okay, you can look now!" Dawn was beaming with pleasure. 

The photograph had been Dawn's birthday present to Buffy. The sisters were smiling for a camera, which had never existed on a day at the beach that had never happened. That didn't matter to Spike. He was overwhelmed with the generosity of her gift. His eyes started to fill up, and he blinked several times while he tried to regain his composure. He'd made a promise, but instead this child was protecting him. _She's the closest thing to family I've got, and better than I could've ever hoped for._

Spike looked up from the picture to find Dawn anxiously watching him. He smiled at her, lightly kissed the photo and tucked it into his pocket. "It's the best present anyone has ever given me. Now get lost, a guy's gotta get some sleep." 

"Spike!" 

He sat up at Buffy's voice, startled, and quickly regretted the move as his head began pounding again. Between the drums in his ears and the rain, he hadn't heard her opening the door. _At least there's no more of the barreling in and slamming me to the ground,_ he thought. 

"Spike? Spike! What, you forget about patrolling?" Buffy grabbed his coat from the chair and tossed it to him. Spike swung his legs over the side and caught the duster before it ended its descent. His headache forgotten, he was halfway to the door before he noticed that she had stopped moving. Still scowling, he turned to look at her, surprised to see her staring at him, her expression shocked. 

She moved closer to him, and roughly took hold of his jaw, turning his face toward the flickering light cast by the candles on the wall. Pain shot through his cheek. _Oh no,_ he thought, remembering too late the deep slashes on his face, not yet completely healed. 

Without a word, Buffy slowly raised the bottom of her shirt just far enough for him to see the identical slashes marring her flesh. Undaunted by the immediate surprise and anger flashing in his eyes, she dropped her shirt back in place and let go of him. 

"I know where mine came from." Her voice was flat, and her wary look frightened him. "What happened to you?" 

"Buffy, it's not..." An unfamiliar sense of shame coursed through him and he shuddered. "Maybe it is, but we need to go. Duty calls." He watched her carefully, relieved when she moved up along side of him and walked out the door. She headed out across the graveyard, paying no mind to the drizzling rain as she led the way across the graveyard. 

Spike waited a minute before he spoke. "I think we have a problem." He immediately cursed himself. _Bloody fool, just blurt it out._

Buffy had stopped at his tone. He gestured to the path, insisting she continue walking. 

"I saw you and Marcus, and I, oh bloody hell, I couldn't ... I ... Harris and Giles and I had been at the bar and ... I ..." Once began, he could not stop the torrent of words. _ Good one Spike, she's going to think you're bleedin' barmy._

"Look," he tried again, running his hands through his hair, still mussed from sleeping. "You don't owe me any explanations about the chap." _And I don't think I want to hear them._ "I don't want to upset you, but ... I ..." 

"Please don't say it again." Her words were kindly spoken, but distant. 

"Let me finish," he snapped. Buffy stepped back from him, startled by the emotion flooding his words. His tone softened. "Please, luv. I saw that half-breed touch you and I didn't like it. I couldn't stand the thought of it being him, and not me..." His spoke faster, preventing her from interrupting. "I am trying to tell you..." Somewhat embarrassed by his outburst, he risked a glance in her direction. Her expression was conflicted. 

"Spike... I ..." 

"Hush," he quieted her, shaking his head slowly. "I don't deserve the lot of you. After you... left us... Dawn was the only thing that kept me going. I wasn't going to fail you again." 

"Dawn told me what happened on that platform," she snapped at him. "How can you honestly believe you failed? No one has ever risked themselves for us like you have." Her tone brooked no opposition, but Spike's face was still stricken. Buffy attempted a lighter tone. "I smelled you from the door. You're Mr. Hungover Mopey Guy. I don't need you all maudlin on me now. Cool it on the failing-me thing." 

"But I have." He looked down at her, his eyes glistening, but his words chilling. "After I saw ... you and Marcus, I went back to the bar. I met someone. A woman, and we, uh, we hit it off." 

Buffy cringed. _So what if he meets someone._ "I really don't need Mr. Confession Guy either. You don't owe me any explanation about your private time." 

Spike slapped a hand to his forehead, covering his eyes, and then ripped his hand back through his hair again. "You don't understand." He growled with exasperation. "It was one of them, Marcus' cousin. It was the female. God, I was so bladdered." At her quizzical look, he rolled his eyes. "You know, drunk? Not so bad that I couldn't figure out who she was. I figured I could throw a bit o' Spike charm at her and find out what she and her brother wanted in town, or maybe what they know." 

At Buffy's look of confusion, he dropped his hands, frustrated that he couldn't make himself clear. "Look, she was so hot, with this dress..." He hesitated as Buffy's eyes narrowed dangerously. "We danced and things got a bit, um, cozy. She figured out I've met... Marcus. She found the ward." 

Buffy gasped. She turned without a word and angrily walked off. Aggravated, Spike caught up to her easily. He grabbed her wrist and spun her around, forcing her to look at him. 

He spoke quickly. "We fought. She's stronger than any vampire I've known." He hesitated, unsure of how to continue. "I tried to kill her." 

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Buffy replied, skeptical. 

"Before we fought, even after I knew what she was, I ... I wanted to bite her. I tried to justify it because she was not human, but..." He couldn't continue, unaware that every conflicting emotion showed clearly in his chiseled features. 

Buffy opened her mouth, and closed it, at a loss unsure if her understanding would comfort him or make him feel worse. "Remember the cuts I showed you?" she asked him, swallowing nervously. He nodded. "Marcus and I sparred so... I could learn how to fight his cousins." Spike bristled slightly at the idea that Marcus had been the one to injure her. Ignoring his reaction, she met his eyes. "It's no wonder that you wanted to kill her. I wish you had." 

Spike tilted his head, baffled that she wasn't angry with him. 

"I know you were trying to help," she continued, "but going up against one of them by yourself was stupid." 

Spike allowed himself a half-sigh of relief that she wasn't angrier, but he wasn't going to move until he'd told her the rest. "She took something from me." 

Flashing quickly on Giles' injuries, Buffy started to reassure him that he was not the only one who had been careless with the wards. When he didn't respond, Buffy realized he was still in an acute state of agitation. She fell silent. 

"I didn't notice until I went for my lighter, second damn one I've lost this year too..." Spike muttered to himself, trying to delay the inevitable. He sighed heavily. "I think she got my picture." 

Buffy frowned, remembering the shrine she had found in his crypt. "Please tell me you're still not carrying around a picture of me?" 

He shook his head vehemently. "No, well, technically yes, it is a picture of you, but not just of you ..." He was rambling again. "It's of you and Dawn." Haltingly, he explained about the gift from Dawn, and when he'd realized it was gone, and his conclusions. 

Buffy was transfixed, watching the gamut of expressions cross Spike's face. Her heart broke for him. _Milk and cookies won't fix this,_ she thought. She gently touched the slashes that were rapidly fading, leaving his skin once again pale and flawless. "Spike, there's time enough later to... figure everything out. First, patrol, then ritual, then we'll get your picture back." 

  


**end of Part IV - Fermentation  
**_[~ continue to next chapter ~][1]_

   [1]: 25-12.htm



	26. Beginning of Part V - Distillation - Cha...

dark alchemy : part V - Distillation : Chapter Twenty-Five

  
**

chapter twenty-five

**

Lady Starlight 

Simon waited patiently while Dawn finished loading the VCR. Returning to the sofa, she slipped her hand in his, then smiled at him, blushing as she realized their faces were a lot closer together than she'd realized. 

"So... you wanna watch that movie?" She glanced at the remote control on the coffee table.

"Sure." Simon gave her a half-smile. Neither moved. 

"Movies don't play unless you start them," Dawn whispered. 

"Right." Simon still didn't move, and Dawn's heart fluttered as he added, "Gotta start things to get them... going." 

Dawn was about to crack a joke, but first she closed her eyes - and then he kissed her. This time, she kissed him back. She pulled back from him slowly and opened her eyes. 

"Wow," she breathed softly. 

Simon smiled at her, leaned over and grabbed the remote. "Wow yourself," he said as he tucked her under his arm. He pushed 'play' and the credits started. "So, what movie did you pick?" 

"It's supposed to be scary. I haven't seen it yet but it got great reviews." 

He tightened his arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry. I'll protect you." 

Dawn smiled and cuddled into his embrace. _Is this what Buffy felt with Angel, with Riley?_

Dawn screamed and buried her face in Simon's shoulder. "Tell me when it's over," she begged. 

Simon waited a beat and said, "It's over." Dawn lifted her head and Simon said, "Oops, I was wrong." 

She buried her face in his shoulder again, feeling his laughter through her skin. 

Dawn picked up the remote and turned off the television. She turned to Simon expectantly. "Didn't you just love that movie?" 

"You hardly watched any of it past the credits." 

"What? It's a great movie." 

"Dawn, I may not remember a lot but I'm pretty sure I liked movies with more... car crashes." 

"But, you, but... " 

"Gotcha!" 

She hit him gently with a cushion. "You jerk! I thought you were serious." 

He grabbed her wrist before she could hit him again. "All right, enough! I'm sorry. No more abusing of innocent furniture, 'kay?" He pulled her gently against him for a minute. "You know, I'm really glad I decided to come here." 

"I am too." Dawn hugged him tightly, then leapt off the couch and went to her backpack. "Listen, I've got a really cool idea. Willow gave me this magick book and I think there's a section on meditations in it. We can try one and see if instead of dreaming random stuff, you can, y'know, pick up stuff on purpose." Dawn displayed the book, waving it under his nose. 

Simon looked at it dubiously. "I, I don't know." 

"Oh come on, it'll be fun. Willow wouldn't give me anything that would hurt me." 

Simon nodded, his eyes scanning her face, noting the sorrow that passed over it. He took a deep breath and held his hand out for the book. "Okay, but I get to pick. Don't want you turning me into a toad or anything." Just as he'd hoped, her smile came back. 

"I wouldn't turn you into a toad." She gave him an indignant look and he winked at her, then turned his attention to the book, flipping through the pages quickly. 

"This one looks pretty easy," he said. "Just sit comfortably, close your eyes, and concentrate on seeing a candle flame in your mind's eye. It's supposed to bring clarity and focus." 

"Let's try it." 

They sat cross-legged on the floor, across from one another. Dawn couldn't stop her snickers from slipping out. Simon opened one eye and mock-glared at her. "Look, you! If you're not going to be serious... ." 

"You'll what?" 

"Oh, I'll think of something." 

Dawn stuck her tongue out at him. He couldn't resist, so he leaned over and kissed her quickly. He settled back and closed his eyes. "Meditate now." 

"All right, spoilsport." 

Simon breathed in & out slowly, focusing on the candle flame in his mind's eye. 

  
Methodica &  
Lady Starlight 

  


He was standing in a library. He began to walk around the shelves, trailing his hand along the books. Each time he took down a book and opened it, the dream-room would dissolve around him, and he was in the story.

Someone was holding a picture of a group of kids. A finger pointed to one of them, and he heard a voice say, "She is the Guardian." 

"What if she's killed?" Dimly he was aware that the voice was coming from him. 

"We have contingency plans..." 

Simon raised his hand from the book's page, and the image faded. Turning to the shelf again, he pulled down another book. Even as he opened it, the room spun, dissolving... 

His hands caressed the rune stones. He drew a deep breath in and waited for the feeling of rightness. He gently cast the runes onto the floor, reading the signs as they fell. He turned to the hovering man behind him. "It is time. They're coming... and she's not far behind. We must do it now, or all will die." 

Simon snapped the book shut, placing it on the table beside the others. He turned to the shelves, scanning the spines for a particular text. _Perhaps it's this one,_ he thought, as he reached for another. The pages crinkled with age, their edges stiff with disuse, and the room around him dissolved...

Pain exploded throughout his body. "No," he heard himself whisper.

The tall man dressed in armor turned away from him. "Fool." 

Simon shook his head and set the book aside. Taking several steps forward, he reached for the first brightly colored spine that caught his eye. It was a small volume, barely an inch thick, and its cover was embossed leather. He paused a moment, then carefully pried it open. The room dissolved...

He stood before an altar, chanting quickly. His voice rose above the sounds of fighting muffled by the heavy door. _Finished, praise be to God,_ was his last thought before the polished sword cleaved his head from his body. 

  
Lady Starlight 

  


Simon pulled his hand away from that book, and the image dissolved, spinning to right itself as he caught sight of a book with gilt edges. He took it down and laid it on a nearby table, opening it...

He was standing in a large room with stone walls. In the middle of the room was a roaring fire reaching several feet in the air. There were robed men sitting in a circle around it, singing. Simon stared at them quizzically; they looked familiar but he wasn't sure from where. 

The incantations were getting louder as a mist appeared above the fire. The men seemed to be begging, pleading for something. In the middle of the circle, a green glowing object twisted and turned in its own slow dance. The chanting rose to a crescendo, and the object coalesced into a human form. A flash of blinding light filled the room. 

Simon threw his arm up over his eyes. When he lowered his arm, he saw five men huddled over a large wooden box about as long as a man is tall, and as high as a man's waist. After a minute's hushed discussion, several of them patted the box, as if congratulating themselves and it. The rest of the men solemnly followed the first group out of the room; many of them had pleased expressions. Simon was left alone in the room with the dying fire and the box. Curious, he took a step towards it and the room dissolved... 

Simon opened his eyes suddenly, realizing he was sitting in Dawn's living room. "I, I think I just got to see you naked." Dawn looked at him in shock as he described each of the stories in his dream, ending with the vision of seeing her hover over the heads of several men, as if she were sleeping. 

"Not that I stayed around to see anything in that last part. Or that it wouldn't have been worth it... oh damn." They looked at each other for a second and then the giggling started again. 

Finally, Dawn stared at the floor. "Don't look at me, or we'll never stop laughing."

He reached out and captured her hand. "I'll always want to laugh with you." 

Dawn blushed. "So why did you see books... and churches?" 

"Yeah. Old stuff. Like... what's the word... where those guys in robes live." 

"Monks." Dawn barely breathed the word. "Monasteries. You dreamed about monasteries." 

"I guess so." 

"So you were seeing stuff about someone else who was a monk?" she teased, but a hopeful note danced around the edge of her voice. 

_"_Naw._" _Simon shrugged. "That's just the same old dream I have all the time."

Dawn stared at him until she realized he was frowning at her, and that her jaw was hanging open. "You always dream about monks?" She swallowed hard.

"Yeah," he replied. "Those aren't someone else's dreams, though. Those are mine. I can tell the difference, y'know," he added defensively. Dawn was startled, and then her mind started spinning. A little voice inside her was trying to get her to listen, and she shook her head, attempting to concentrate.

_Monasteries. His dreams... Monks, _she thought with a jolt. _He's connected to the Key._ It made sense on some sneaky, muddled level. _ Someone had to be around to tell me about... me. Someone who wouldn't show up until after... _

Simon watched her thinking, and bit his lip, waiting. 

"I get it," Dawn exclaimed, then managed to order her thoughts enough to express herself to Simon. "You... remember." 

"I figure I was a professor's kid, or a writer's. But I don't remember anythi-" 

"You're the Key's memories. I'm the energy, but you're the memory... from the monks. I saw what happened to..." She halted, shutting away the picture of all the warriors slaughtered by Glory outside an abandoned gas station. "I don't think any of the monks survived, so anything they learned might've been lost... And now it's not." Simon looked confused, and Dawn tried again to explain. "I'm... I'm a normal girl just like anybody," she said, "and not like a normal girl. It's a big, confusing story." Dawn took a deep breath. "Up until a little more than a year ago, I didn't have a sister." 

"Buffy's adopted?" Simon was bewildered. 

"More like, my sister didn't have a sister." 

He nodded, clearly still puzzled. It didn't take long for her to explain that the Key he'd dreamed of was Dawn, and he was a kind of magickal photo album for the origins and creation of the Key. She skipped telling him about Glory, or her sister's death, still uncomfortable with it, herself. After a few minutes of patiently answering his questions, she felt it was going well. He wasn't looking at her like she needed to be stuck headfirst into a lock anytime soon. 

"So..." he spoke carefully, "I'm kind of... your memories." _So someone could tell you what,_ he wondered. _Hi there, you're the greeny glowy energy that could destroy the world, and I've been dreaming about old guys in bathrobes who hoped you weren't evil even though they were all convinced of it secretly?_ He closed his eyes, overwhelmed. _ What do I say? I like her so much, what if she asks me what the monks really thought? They wanted her to be good but the Key had destroyed so much... _

"You okay?" Dawn asked, anxious, and Simon opened his eyes, nodding distantly. He shrugged, and she smiled. "I know it sounds strange, and a little scary. But I'm pretty sure that... you've got something ... you know, I don't know what to do. I don't know what it means." 

"It doesn't have to mean anything. We can just... just be what we are. If we figure out what it means, what I remember," Simon smiled wryly, "that's good, and if not, it doesn't matter now." He glanced away from her, embarrassed, and sighed. "Sorry, I just... it's a lot at once... but I'm still glad I came." He reached out, shyly, and caught her hand in his. "Just to see you, once." 

Dawn smiled, flattered, but got to her feet. Something in his tone spooked her, but she tried to shrug it off and started towards the kitchen. "Come on, let's see if we can find something to eat." She opened the fridge door and hung off of it. "It's really late, but for some reason, I'm really hungry." 

Simon hadn't followed her, and his voice floated into the kitchen from the foyer. "Uh, Dawn? Do you think this twenty on the hall table with a note saying 'Why don't you guys order pizza?' means we should order pizza?" 

"Funny. Just for that, I'm ordering anchovies and jalapenos on your half." 

He snuck up behind her and whispered in her ear. "Only if you eat them for me." Dawn giggled as he wiggled his eyebrows at her. 

"Go away!" she hissed as she dialed the phone. He smirked and went to wait in the living room. 

Simon was looking at the pictures on the mantle when Dawn returned from ordering the pizza. She noticed his expression, and her eyes darkened with sympathy. "Are you okay?" 

"Kind of. Still feel weird. Y'know, being told, Hey, guess what? You've got someone else's memories.'" 

"Shhyeah." Dawn rolled her eyes. "When everyone found out, they were all wigged out and kept looking at me sideways like I was going to explode or something. Everyone except Spike. He just treated me the same as always." 

"That's cool... Uh, who's Spike?" 

"He's this semi-evil vampire with a government chip in his head, so he can't hurt people anymore." 

"Whoa, too much information here. Vampire? Government chip?" 

"Really long story. Spike is kind of like an annoying, totally overprotective big brother who goes grrr every once in a while. Which is why I don't want you two to meet until I can convince him that you're not going to kidnap me and sell me into white slavery or something. You're not planning to, are you?" 

"Nah, no money in it anymore." Their eyes met and they grinned at each other as Simon pulled Dawn down on the sofa with him. Without even thinking, he brought his arm up and put it around her. She snuggled in against him and leaned her head on his shoulder. They were both silent for a few minutes. 

"Whatcha thinking about?" she finally asked him. Simon shrugged noncommittally and looked at her, at the same point she raised her face to study his expression closer. They bumped noses, and Dawn yelped quietly. "Okay, ow!" 

Simon laughed, and took her by the chin as he stared at her nose. "Wait, let me look." He stared for a second, and Dawn started giggling. He shot her a serious look. "It could be broken." 

"Oh, really," she teased, skeptical, and he nodded. "And what would you do about it?" 

"Kiss it and make it better," he said. The kiss on the end of her nose lasted a second, and he opened his eyes to see her frozen in one spot, her lips soft and parted, her eyes closed. Simon's heart ached. _She could destroy the world, and does she even know it? _Angrily he pushed the doubts away. _That's someone else's fears, not mine, _he told himself._ This isn't a girl who'd destroy anything, she loves too much. _

He realized her eyes had started to open, puzzled, and hopeful. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he leaned forward and this time, he wasn't kissing her nose. 

The two had been snuggling on the sofa for several minutes, enjoying the silence. Dawn wondered if she was glowing, and idly checked the clock. "Pizza should be here any minute. Want something to drink? I think we've got a couple of Cokes left." 

"Sure, sounds good." 

Dawn walked into the kitchen, and Simon sat for a minute. Someone was coming up the porch stairs. "You were right, pizza's here!" 

"Can you get it? I'll be right there." 

Dawn was trying to decide whether she wanted the hassle of cleaning plates late at night. _Not,_ she finally decided and grabbed some paper towels. She heard the front door open as she was digging the last two cans of real Coke out of the fridge. She made a face at the generic colas that sat beside them. _Now, Bit, it's all the same, innit? Let's be frugal now, _she mimicked sarcastically. 

"Might be all the same, but I notice you never drank them," she muttered. As she closed the fridge door, she heard a noise from the porch. "Simon? Did you get the pizza?" 

She set the Cokes on the counter. She heard footsteps moving rapidly across the wooden porch. A series of muffled thumps followed by what sounded like her name got her moving in high gear into the foyer. The door was wide open and Simon was nowhere to be seen. 

"_Simon!"_

Dawn was barely aware that she was screaming his name as she grabbed her coat and ran out the door. 

  
Humanitas &  
Lady Starlight 

  
She leapt off the porch and skidded to a stop on the sidewalk. Dawn swiveled her head left, then right, desperately searching for a trace of who'd taken Simon. She caught a glimpse of taillights turning at the corner and took off through her neighbor's yard, hoping to cut them off. She easily hurdled the small fence, feeling a distant twinge of guilt over landing in the prize roses. 

_Mental note,_ she thought as she ran, _buy them new roses tomorrow._

Simon feigned unconsciousness as his female kidnapper slowly licked the blood trickling from a cut on his forehead. They'd shoved him into the car so quickly he was surprised all his parts were still attached. 

"Ari," she whined, "can't you go any faster?" 

"Lia, my sweet, there are such things as traffic cops. Nothing grabs as much attention as speeding. So shut up and let me drive." Aeralyus returned his attention to the road. Talia scowled and sat back on the seat, one hand still on Simon's shoulder. 

_This is bad,_ Simon thought. He rolled his eyes, checking out the layout of the back seat, especially the door handle. 

Dawn dodged the litter of toys and hoses in the backyard, but was almost ensnared by the swing set that loomed up out of the darkness. Changing direction quickly, she managed to get around it and clawed the gate open. She sprinted across the alley and charged through another back yard, narrowly avoiding what she thought was a fishpond. She hit the sidewalk and looked around frantically. Headlights were approaching her, still a few houses away, and she froze, uncertain. 

"Damn!" Simon heard Aeralyus curse, and then the whoosh of two electric windows being lowered, followed by a sound Simon couldn't identify. He barely opened his eyes, and saw the man and woman sniffing deeply through the lowered passenger side windows. 

"It's from that house," Talia hissed. "The Slayer?" 

"No," Aeralyus replied. "Sister, I think." Their eyes met in the rear view mirror. 

"Hostage," Talia said, a note of satisfaction in her voice. 

"Leverage." Aeralyus replied as he swerved to the curb. Dawn turned around at the screech of the tires and started backing away from the car, up onto the adjacent yard's gentle embankment. Aeralyus spoke through the open window. "You can come quietly, or not, but you are coming with us." Simon tensed his muscles and waited for his moment. Talia opened her door and put one foot on the ground. 

_Now,_ Simon thought and shoved her out the door. Talia hit the sidewalk hard and stayed there for a moment, stunned. Aeralyus turned at the sound and Simon hit him hard on the chin. 

"Dawn, _run!_" he screamed, and scrambled out the open door, climbing over Talia. "_Get Buffy!_ " 

Aeralyus cursed, and got out of the car. Simon leapt to the curb, pushing off of Talia's back, Aeralyus came around the back of the vehicle, racing to cut the boy off. He grabbed at Simon, careful not to extend his claws. _Mustn't hurt the boy yet._

Simon ducked under the grabbing arms, and put all his weight into a jab to the wolf's solar plexus as he came back up. Aeralyus staggered back, but only a step. Dawn stood frozen, watching Simon fight. 

"Look out!" Dawn hollered a warning as Talia slowly got to her feet. Simon glanced over his shoulder and turned, sending a kick sideways at Talia's knee. He didn't connect as hard as he wanted, but it was enough to send her sprawling again. He turned quickly, swinging at Aeralyus and grunting a little with the effort he made. The man caught Simon's hand easily. 

"Oh, no, little vessel. Can't have this," Aeralyus said. He let go of Simon's hand and swung at Simon's midsection instead. The teenager narrowly avoided the blow but tripped over Talia. Simon twisted his body and rolled, coming to stop only a few feet from Talia. Dazed, he tried to get his feet under him. Dawn instinctively took a step to help Simon but stopped when Talia stood up, blocking her way. 

"Go!" Simon shouted again as he struggled to his hands and knees. 

The girl backed up as Talia stepped towards her. The woman's hands were curled like claws, and Dawn's glance flickered to the woman's fingers. Without knowing why she thought it, Dawn intuitively knew something wasn't right about the woman's hands. For a split second, she stalled, torn between wanting to help Simon, and knowing she needed to get Buffy. She screamed as Aeralyus lunged at her, and jumped sideways to escape his grasp. Dawn bolted across the yard towards the side of the house, aiming for the open gate she'd come through. 

Talia pulled a knife from her belt. She flipped it into a throwing position and aimed for Dawn's back. Behind her, Simon lunged for her knees and managed to bring Talia down again. She spat in fury, but kept her grip on the knife. 

A second later, Dawn was gone, disappearing into the darkened back yard. Aeralyus didn't chase her, but let her go, an irritated expression on his face as he shrugged. On the sidewalk, Talia turned in Simon's grasp and raised the knife over his back. Simon hollered wordlessly, drawing Aeralyus' attention. 

In two strides, Aeralyus was at his sister's side, grabbing her wrist. He twisted until she was forced to drop the knife and jerked her to her feet. Aeralyus ignored her indignant cry, and regarded Simon clinically for a minute. He let go of his sister, kicking Simon in the small of the back. As the teenager writhed in pain, the man picked up the knife and knocked him on the back of the head with the pommel. 

"Get in, and call the others. We don't have much time," Aeralyus snarled at Talia, and threw Simon's limp body into the back seat. 

  


_[~ continue to next chapter ~][1]_

   [1]: 26-12.htm



	27. Chapter 26

dark alchemy : part V - Distillation : Chapter Twenty-Six

  
**

chapter twenty-six

**

Purplegrrl 

It was shortly before midnight. A car pulled in near the stop sign at the intersection, and the driver cut the engine. Marcus was out first, helping Willow climb out of the backseat, and taking one of the boxes from Tara. Willow's ankle was better, but she walked closely with Tara for the mutual reassurance. Giles took the other box and followed. Xander, Anya, Spike, and Buffy were waiting for them in the center of the street. 

"That was your high school?" Marcus asked Buffy in an awed voice as he approached and set down the box. 

Buffy nodded absent-mindedly as she watched the two witches explain the protection wards to Giles and Anya. Marcus gaped at Sunnydale High, the burnt shell of a monument to the Class of 1999. Buffy shuddered, and Marcus noticed, though he wasn't sure of the reason. He momentarily placed his hand over hers, and she smiled at him. 

_He's comforting me, yet he's the one who might not be walking out of this circle,_ she thought, surprised, and touched. 

"You know, a crossroads is a traditional place to bury a vampire you want to be rid of," Anya said brightly to no one in particular. Spike scowled at her. He was leery enough of the ritual as it was. 

"At least it's stopped raining," Willow said to Tara as they stopped at the edge of the circle. 

"I brought little hats for the candles, just in case," Tara whispered, and Willow kissed her quickly on the nose. The two witches then joined Giles and Anya, already setting protection spells on the four street corners in preparation for the ritual. 

When that was complete, Tara opened the boxes and removed the ritual objects, handing the appropriate item to each participant. Meanwhile, Willow took the container of sea salt and described a large circle in the middle of the intersection, the white salt in stark contrast to the black asphalt. Going behind her, Giles placed five fist-sized rounded stones equidistant around the circle. Each of the stones was painted with the alchemical symbol for earth, air, fire, water, or spirit. 

Tara lit one of the thick white candles and handed it to Anya. "Stand within the circle at the place of spirit and the energy of transformation." She handed a second candle to Giles. "Light your candle from Anya's and stand at the corner of fire and male energy." Handing out the other three candles, Tara finished her instructions. "Xander, light your candle from Giles' and stand in the spot for air and the energy of life. Willow, light your candle from Xander's and stand over at water and female energy. Spike, light your candle from Willow's and stand at the place of earth and the energy of death." 

Spike did as he was instructed, but made a point of glowering darkly. He shrugged his shoulders, the movement causing his candle flame to flicker. _If the ritual puts everything right again, I'll put up with it. It's for Buffy,_ he reminded himself. He carefully put his candle on the ground like everyone else. 

Picking up the ceremonial dagger and the velvet bag containing the sphere of Elämä, Tara walked to the center of the ritual space. Taking a piece of thick white chalk from her pocket, she drew a six-rayed star within a circle, the symbol for spirit, on the wet pavement. The chalk glowed in the half-light, and Xander blinked, wondering if the ritual had already begun. 

Tara motioned for Buffy and Marcus to join her. They each wore a piece of onyx, to focus their spiritual strength, on a leather cord around their necks. Buffy carried Giles' cell phone in her hand. 

"You ready for this?" Buffy asked Marcus. He nodded, his mouth in a grim line. Then he leaned over, gently kissing her on the cheek, and holding it there for a heartbeat's length. His touch was gentle, but still electric, and his mood was one of calm determination. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Spike bristle as the kiss ended. 

"What was that for," Buffy whispered, surprised. 

"Luck," he said, and smiled. 

"Ready?" Buffy asked Tara, and flashed Marcus a quick smile. The blonde witch nodded. Buffy pulled a slip of paper from her pocket and dialed the number written on it. The phone had rung only once when someone on the other end answered it. 

"Angel? We're ready." She listened for a moment, then nodded to Tara. 

Buffy had a fleeting image of Angel and Wesley, posing as lawyers, sitting on the other side of a table from Faith. She was pretty sure she didn't want to know how they'd convinced the warden that Faith needed a visit from her lawyers at midnight, but it was the best they could manage short of a jailbreak. A tenuous connection across the darkness was better than none at all. 

  
Solitude1056 

  
"Wait," Marcus interrupted. "I'd like to..." His voice trailed off, and he looked at the cell phone expectantly. Buffy shot Giles a look, before she handed Marcus the cell phone. He took it, biting his lip as he raised it to his ear.

"Hello?" he asked, his deep voice hesitant. "This is Marcus," he explained, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground as if forcing himself to believe that the conversation could be private if he didn't acknowledge the people gathered around him. "Yes, please." 

There was a pause, and Buffy noticed Marcus' free hand was clenched into a fist. She reached out and took it in her hand, squeezing it slightly to remind him. He glanced sideways at her, abashed, and slowly let out the breath he'd been holding. 

"Yes," he suddenly said. Tara jumped a little, startled. "Are you - ? ...Same here." A wintry smile flashed across his face, and he closed his eyes, his voice barely above a whisper. "If you want, I'd... Yes. They're ready on this end, are..." He smiled shyly at nothing in particular. Buffy saw that mischievous glint in his eyes when he spoke again. "Perhaps when there's not an audience," he said, and chuckled softly. "Do take - yes. You too."

With a nod to Tara, he handed the phone back to Buffy, looking her straight in the eyes. When he said, "We're ready now," she realized he wasn't including her in that announcement, but was instead informing her of his joint readiness with Faith.

_The giver and the taker are ready, _she thought._ Faith, the taker. Yeah. _ She squashed the thought as she raised the phone to her ear. Angel's voice greeted her on the other end.

  
Purplegrrl 

  
"Okay, just hold the phone so you can all hear," she told him. Holding the phone in her outstretched hand, Buffy looked expectantly at Tara. 

Tara glanced from Buffy to Marcus, then spoke directly to Marcus. "Hold out your right hand. T-This is going to h-hurt," she warned him. 

Quickly Tara cut him across the palm with the dagger. Even though he knew it was coming, Marcus hissed quietly through his teeth. Spike's nostrils flared slightly at the scent of blood and Anya craned her neck for a better view. Xander and Willow paled a little, while Giles' face was stoic. Tara took the phone from Buffy and placed it on the ground while she dug in the box for a velvet bag containing an oval object about the size of an ostrich egg. Marcus flinched when he recognized the object, and gritted his teeth. 

"Clasp hands so Marcus' blood is on your hands," Tara told Buffy as she removed the crystalline sphere from its protective bag and waited until Buffy's palms were coated. As she pressed her hands against his palm, Buffy felt that familiar electrical charge shoot through her system. 

"Now, hold this," Tara said, placing the sphere in Marcus' bloody palm. "Buffy, place your hand on top of the sphere." 

Tara picked up the cell phone from the ground. "A-Angel?" she said hesitantly. "This is Tara. Tell Faith to cut her palm now and dab some of the blood on the phone. It will strengthen the spiritual connection." She nodded when Angel confirmed that Faith had done as instructed. "Good." 

As she placed the phone in Buffy's bloody hand, the sphere of Elämä began to glow with an intense white light. Marcus jerked slightly in surprise, and Buffy's eyes widened. She tightened her grip on the cell phone as her fingers began to tingle where they touched Marcus' wrist. 

Beginning at the position of water, then on to earth, spirit, fire, air and back to water, Tara drew a pentagram around Buffy, Marcus and the cell phone with the chalk. Then she gave each of the persons at the five positions on the circle a length of knotted rope. Pulling Charles Siefer's pages from her pocket, Tara double-checked that everything was ready for the ritual. Satisfied, she took her position beside Buffy and Marcus at the center of the circle. As the bells of the Catholic church in the middle of town started to toll midnight, she began reciting the incantation. 

> Twixt Janua inferni and Janua coeli  
At the door between dark and light, between twilight and the dawn.  
In the meeting place of roads in this plane and across the many dimensions  
At the threshold of being and unbeing between this world and the next.  
We evoke Gla the Knowing, we beseech Apsu and Tiamat.  
We call upon Shakti, manifest and all being  
We call upon Shakta, seed of creation  
Accept this gift, let it be a sacrifice that reunites what is scattered

The sphere glowed brighter. Strands of light shot out, connecting the center of the ritual space to each point on the pentagram, and then around the circle. Other rays connected Buffy and Marcus. 

> _ Provide us with the powers of opening and closing  
The powers of binding and of loosing  
That which is restrained will be united  
Loosen the knot to unbind that which has been bound_

Tara nodded to the group, and the five around the circle untied the knot in each length of rope. The connection of light between Buffy and Marcus glowed brighter, and a single tendril of light darted across Buffy into the cell phone. Buffy noticed Marcus' pendant was glowing blue through his shirt, as if echoing the energy dancing around them.

Images flashed through Buffy's mind: a Chinese girl in silk brocade pajama-like pants and jacket, a young black woman with an Afro and a long black leather coat, a peasant girl in a brown homespun skirt and bare feet, a tall young woman bareback on a squat pony, her legs bent as she galloped. The faces flashed by Buffy so rapidly she soon lost count. 

_These are Slayers. These are my true ancestors,_ Buffy thought. 

Distantly, she could hear someone whispering to her. Buffy shook her head, unable to focus. The energy was coursing through her, and every cell in her body was beginning to scream with the intensity. It was pleasurable, and powerful, but at the same time, too much. The voice came again, this time with more urgency. 

"Buffy," Tara was saying. "Let go of it, you can't hold it, you've got to give it to Faith." 

Buffy opened her eyes enough to see Marcus, lines etched on his face by the dancing light, unbearable pain reflected in his wide, unfocused eyes. She glanced at Tara's frightened face as the witch spoke again. "Buffy, please, open to Faith, send it where it belongs." 

Buffy swallowed hard as she looked at Marcus' eyes closing slowly, his mouth a thin line, his free hand caught in a tight fist as he fought to hold on. Glancing at the phone in her other hand, she focused. 

_Faith._

Almost instantly the energy within her streaked across her body to enter the phone in her hand. There was a barely audible gasp from the other end of the line as the intense white light emerged from Angel's cell phone at the other end of the connection. Buffy bit back a scream as the energy rushed faster, and she clutched the Sphere and the cell phone as if they were her last holds in swollen river. 

Tara began the last part of the incantation. _Hold on, just hold on, _she implored them silently. Nearby, Willow's eyes were wide, watching her lover and her best friend. Desperately, she echoed Tara's words in her head, trying to rush the incantation towards its goal.

> _What was once one became two   
What is two now becomes one  
The divided reach synthesis  
And are made whole again  
That which has been taken is now returned_

The rays of connecting light were abruptly drawn back into the sphere of Elämä - and then it went dark. Marcus' hand dropped as he staggered, and Tara was ready with the bag to catch the sphere. 

Buffy dropped the phone, her body tingling as if she'd put her hands on live voltage, and lunged forward to catch Marcus as he fell to his knees. Instantly Giles was on Marcus' other side, helping her guide the young man gently to the ground. Buffy stood up, feeling full and empty at the same time. 

Giles glanced up at Buffy. "Are you all right?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion. 

"All systems go," Buffy reassured him, giving Giles a small smile. 

"Of course she's fine. She's the one still standing, ain't she?" Spike commented, his sarcasm covering the concern he felt. Buffy rolled her eyes. Shaking his head, Giles bent to retrieve his cell phone. 

"Wesley? Angel?" Giles listened for a moment. "Yes. Faith?" He paused, watching as Tara and Willow hovered over Marcus' still form. "I don't know. Yes, we'll let you know as soon as we do." He disconnected the call, lowering the phone to whisper quietly to Buffy as he stood up. "Wesley is busy explaining already to the guards. Apparently there was also a sudden flash at their end. Faith's coming to, and verging on hysteria that Marcus is in danger." 

  
Humanitas 

  
"Hmph." Buffy's concern for Faith was perfunctory as she glanced around the circle, her gaze caught by an approaching figure. "She didn't get the memo. When Marcus comes to, we should go." 

"Buffy!" 

The Slayer turned, as Dawn came running down the street, barely stopping at the edge of the circle. Before Buffy could question her, she blurted out, "They took Simon. They tried to take me, but he distracted them and I got away. They're gonna hurt him, I know it. We've got to help him!" 

Willow looked up from where she knelt on the ground beside Marcus. She called out to Dawn, beckoning her closer. "It's okay, you can come in through the wards, you're not..." 

"Like me," Marcus finished her statement softly. When Willow glanced his way in surprise, his eyes were open, but his expression was still dazed. Tara was helping him sit up. 

Buffy steeled herself as Dawn picked her way around the salt lines and chalk symbols on the street. _It's just one thing after another. What I wouldn't give to be bored._ "Ok, we re-group at Giles'. Then we go after Simon." 

"But-" 

The Slayer wheeled on her sister. "Look. We can't just rush in from here. I'm not leaving Marcus in the middle of the street!" She softened her voice, a little. "I know you're worried about Simon. We'll get to him in time, I promise." 

Buffy looked up as Xander tapped on the Watcher's shoulder. "Giles, we've got company." Giles followed Xander's nod, and saw three figures standing in the middle of the street. They were twenty or thirty yards away. He kept his voice pitched low, so as not to carry outside the circle. The rest followed his example. 

"The wards are holding," Tara whispered as she caught sight of them. 

"That gives us a little time," Buffy replied, measuring the distance. 

"Um, children." Spike's voice was tense but steady. "We've got more of these wankers coming in the opposite direction, too." 

"Marcus?" Buffy didn't look behind her as she spoke, casting her eyes carefully around the circle as more wolven shapes appeared, morphing at the edge of the wards into human shapes. 

"I'm all right," said Marcus as he got to his feet. He stretched a little, trying to work the stiffness out of his joints. 

"Damn," she said softly, almost to herself, "they make Oz look like a cuddly puppy, don't they?" Behind her, Willow giggled slightly, despite herself. Buffy glanced back over her shoulder at Marcus. "You sure you're ok?" 

"Doesn't look like I have much choice, does it?" He forced a smile. "Got a plan, oh-mighty-general?" 

  
Solitude1056 

  
Buffy took in the situation, looking for possible strategies. "Run for the cars?" 

"We'll have to separate," Xander replied. "I parked down there." He jerked his head in the direction of his car. Giles' car was parked on the other side of the intersection, on the opposite side of the street. 

Spike made a face. "Where's an RV when you need one..." 

Buffy glanced at him, exasperated. "No splitting up. Weapons?" 

"In the trunk of my car," Xander answered. 

  
Humanitas 

  


Buffy sized up the two cars parked at the curb, and turned to Spike, her eyes still fixed on the waiting figures. "Spike, you're closest." 

"There's a big one in the way. I'll need some interference." 

Marcus stepped forward. "I'll do it." 

"You're Regular Guy now, not Slayer." Buffy's voice was firm as she waved him back. "I'll do it." She nodded to Spike, and turned to her sister. "Stay in the middle." 

"But..." Dawn glanced at the wolves again. They were moving in as close as they could around the wards. 

"Don't argue with me. I won't have you getting hurt." 

"Guys," Willow broke in, "Once you cross the circle, the wards will go poof." 

"So we better hurry. Ready, Spike?" 

He grinned at her. "Born ready." 

"Go!" Buffy leapt out of the circle, feeling the static tingle of the wards collapsing as she passed through. She hit the ground rolling, and vaulted into a handspring, catching the nearest attacker square in the chest with both feet. 

Behind her, Spike dashed to Xander's car, ripping the trunk open and grabbing every weapon he could find. The others remained in a circle shoulder to shoulder. Step by step, they were edging closer to Xander's car. Spike shot a glance at Buffy, who was darting out of the way of a vicious slash at her belly. 

"Slayer!" 

At the sound of his voice, Buffy spun a kick at her opponent's face, letting the momentum carry her around. She plucked the axe Spike threw to her out of the air, and kept spinning, swiping the blade at the wolf's side. The wolf stepped back, out of range and her shot missed its mark. He darted in for another attack, only to catch the base of the axe handle under his chin as Buffy jabbed it forward. He staggered, and landed on his back. __

_Damn,_ she thought, _wrong end._

Buffy retreated to re-join her friends. Spike was handing out weapons, including, she noted with displeasure, a pair of hand-held crossbows for Dawn. _I wonder how long he's been waiting to give her those._ She looked around, trying to get a bead on the wolves' strategy. The one she'd knocked down was already getting up. The rest of the pack approached the circle, and stared malevolently at them, as though waiting for a signal. 

Xander spoke to ease his own tension. "You know, I've seen good. It doesn't look like this." Somehow, it didn't help. 

"W-What are they waiting for?" Tara asked. 

"They're a pack," replied Marcus. "They'll all come at once." 

"Then we'd best attack first, hadn't we?" Spike shot Buffy a look, and, not waiting for a reply, charged into the woman directly in front of him. The Marcul closed in. 

One of them, in wolf-shape, snarled at Anya. "I owe you." He morphed into human shape and held up a crossbow bolt. "You left this in my side. Thought I'd give it back." He leapt for her, stabbing with the bolt as though it were a stake. Anya yelped and fired her crossbow at him. In her panic, her shot went wide, and he crashed into her, knocking her to the ground. 

"Anya," Xander cried, seeing her fall. He swung his broadsword at the wolf, knocking the bolt out of its claw more by luck than by anything else. Xander faced his enemy. 

"Come pick on somebody your own size," Xander snapped. The wolf rose to his feet, towering over Xander. "And that somebody is over in the next town, I think," he amended quickly. 

Tara and Willow joined hands, and sent one Marcul flying into another. A third dodged around the snarling tangle of limbs, and punched Tara hard in the face. She fell back with a cry, her head hitting the pavement as she fell. She didn't move. 

Giles swung his baseball bat at the demon's knee, which gave with a satisfying pop. The Marcul, a pretty female, fell to one knee, but still managed to send the Watcher flying with a wild swipe. Dawn squealed as Giles sprawled at her feet. 

Clutching at her knee, the Marcul heard a voice behind her, cold as ice. 

"Why do you bitches always have to pick on my girlfriend?" 

The Marcul looked around, into a pair of eyes as black as her own. _Uh-oh._ She got no chance for further thought, as wild energy crackled from the redhead's fingertips and blasted into her. She began to howl. 

Marcus heard the Marcul howling behind him, and glanced that way. "Gotta remember not to piss her off." 

Seeing his attention wander, another demon grabbed him, and sent him flying. He crashed into a second Marcul, who caught him, and held him tightly. "It's too late for you, little cousin," the female Marcul hissed in his ear. 

"Who the hell are you," he asked, struggling to no avail. 

The first Marcul approached, and smiled. "Distant family. You'd know us if you came to the reunions." 

"Really," Marcus replied, seeing Buffy move into position behind his attacker. "Should've checked my email." Marcus kicked out with both feet, knocking the Marcul backwards toward where Buffy awaited. She swung her axe, and sunk it deep into the man's back. 

The Marcul swung at Xander's head, and he ducked, hearing the swing whistle over his head. Xander thrust upwards at the Marcul's belly, hoping to score a hit, but the demon blocked the attack with a powerful blow, knocking the sword from Xander's hand. A quick backhand swipe raked across Xander's face, sending him sprawling across the pavement. Leaping forward, the demon raked his claws across Xander's thigh. 

The demon's hand came back up, about to slit Xander's throat, when suddenly he stopped. A look of surprise came across his features and he slowly fell forward, a crossbow bolt protruding from his back. Xander looked up to see Anya standing there, crossbow in hand. 

"God, I love you," he said, and passed out, the Marcul's body lying on top of him. 

As her victim crumpled to the ground, Buffy charged forward. Using the demon's body as a step, she leapt into the air, yelling at Marcus to duck. He did, as best he could, dropping his weight toward the ground and pulling his head to the side. His motion pulled his captor forward, and Buffy landed a solid kick right on the top of the Marcul's head, forcing her to let go of Marcus. Unfortunately, the kick also stopped most of Buffy's momentum, and she landed on top of Marcus. 

"Ooof." His breath left him in a rush. "Thanks, I think." 

"Hey, it seemed like a good idea at the time," she replied, picking herself up. Marcus came to his feet beside her as Spike crashed into the ground at her feet, thrown by a particularly large Marcul. 

"Bleedin' freaks," muttered the vampire as he got to his feet. "Can't they look where they're throwing a bloke?" He looked up, and fell silent. They were surrounded. 

The two groups stared at each other, illuminated by the streetlights, and by the energy still crackling over Willow's victim. A single Marcul stepped forward and swiped at Marcus' face. He threw up his arm, and the talon slashed his jacket and his forearm. Before Buffy could respond, the wolves had faded back into the night. 

"What the hell?" Spike's frustration was evident. "Where'd they go off to? Hunh." He looked at the Slayer. "I guess we scared them off." His nostrils twitched as the smell of charred flesh wafted over. "Or they didn't want to get microwaved by Red." 

"Um, Wil?" Buffy made her voice as gentle as she could under the circumstances. "I think that one's cooked." 

"Xander's out, too," came Dawn's voice. Buffy looked over, and was astonished to see her little sister standing back to back with Anya, one on either side of Xander's body, ready to shoot the first demon who came near. "What do we do now?" 

Willow dropped her hands, letting her rage die. "Tara?" She went to her lover's side. "C'mon honey..." Tara mumbled something, and opened her eyes. Willow tried to help Tara sit up, and looked up at Buffy. "Something's wrong." Willow's voice was dangerously near panic. 

"Spike, help Anya get that... thing off of Xander," Buffy ordered, crossing to Willow's side. "Willow, look at me. Look at me!" Her friend's eyes were full of tears, and a trickle of blood ran from her nose. "Tara's going to be ok. We're going to take her back to Giles'." 

Willow smiled forlornly, and she helped Buffy lift Tara to her feet. The blonde witch was dazed, and the back of her head was matted with blood where her head had struck the pavement. Nearby, Giles was groaning as Marcus helped him to stand up. 

"Let's get out of here," said Buffy. 

Spike lifted Xander, and looked at Buffy. "We're ready." Dawn and Anya gathered the rest of the ritual equipment. 

Anya took Xander's car, and Marcus drove Giles' sports car, with Giles in the back seat quietly insisting he could drive just fine. Steadfastly ignoring him, Marcus followed Anya back to Giles' apartment. 

  


_[~ continue to next chapter ~][1]_

   [1]: 27-12.htm



	28. Chapter 27

dark alchemy : part V - Distillation : Chapter Twenty-Seven

  
**

chapter twenty-seven

**

Humanitas 

Giles opened the door to his apartment and turned the lights on. "Come in, everyone." His voice was tired. _I'm getting too old for this,_ he thought wryly as he went into the kitchen to put the kettle on. The familiar actions were soothing. _My God, look at them. _He glanced at the battered group of young people settling into his living room. _Except they're not so young anymore, are they? _

He watched Buffy assist Tara to the sofa. _Buffy's matured quite beyond what any Slayer ever has in the past, Willow seems to get more powerful with every passing day, and Xander..._ Giles regarded Spike carrying Xander to the back bedroom, Marcus following closely behind, a first aid kit already in hand. _Xander's become a surprisingly dependable fellow._ He shook his head, and smiled. _We're a long way from high school, aren't we?_

"Wil, I need you." Buffy's voice came from the living room. "Tara's going to be okay, but we can't get through this without your skills." 

"No, I need to be with her. What if-" Willow's eyes were full of tears as she broke off her words. 

"She'll be okay. I _promise._ She has a concussion but it's not a bad one. I don't think she should moving around too much, let alone wearing herself out." Buffy put her hands on her friend's shoulders, and looked her in the eye. "C'mon, Wil. We gotta make with the magick." _Dammit, she's no good to me distracted._ Buffy was conscious of the coldness of her thought, but it was true. 

"Willow?" Anya poked her head out of the kitchen, where she was making tea. "I'll watch her for you." 

"You?" Willow was too surprised to be scornful. 

"I have to stay and take care of Xander, anyway, because he's not going to be going anywhere with his leg all torn up, so I might as well keep an eye on Tara, too." Anya's worry was evident in the rush of her words. "And Buffy needs your magick." 

Willow eyed the ex-demon, still unwilling to leave Tara behind. 

Anya took her hand. "If it was the other way around..." She spoke with some difficulty, but her words were all the more sincere for that. "I'd trust you with Xander." 

_Wow, _thought Buffy, _ I'm starting to see why Xander loves her so much. _

Willow looked hard at Anya for a moment. "You would?" Anya just nodded. Willow looked over at the sofa and said, without looking up, "I'll be a minute." 

Willow sat down on the sofa, and Tara silently made room for her as she held her head gingerly. Buffy turned to Anya as they got to the kitchen. "Thanks." Anya just smiled a little and shrugged, still uncomfortable with her feelings. 

"No, look," Spike was saying as Buffy returned her attention to the rest of the group. "You've gotta keep both eyes open, or your aim'll be all off." He stood next to Dawn, who still held one of the little crossbows. "There you go. Just look right down the shaft at your target." 

"Spike, what the hell are you doing?" Buffy was less than amused. 

The vampire looked up, quickly replacing his guilty expression with one of defiance. "Teaching the kid to shoot straight. Never know when it might come in handy in this town." 

"She doesn't need to know how to shoot. Dawn, put that down." Dawn didn't even get a chance to protest. "Put it down now." 

"Look, Slayer, girl needs to be able to take care of herself." Spike tried to make his tone as reasonable as possible, torn between not wanting to upset Buffy and wanting to help Dawn. "You can't be there every minute." 

The look in Buffy's eyes stopped him cold. "Don't start." She looked over at Marcus. "How's Xander?" 

The young man was closing the bedroom door behind him. "I've got him bandaged up, but he's not going to be much help. That leg will take a while to heal. He'll be alright, though." 

Before he could move away, Anya had pushed him down onto a barstool. Without speaking, she pulled his jacket off him and undid the button on his shirt. Marcus was too surprised to speak, and just watched as she rolled up his sleeve, twisted his arm slightly for better access, and started bandaging the cut from the fight. He started to protest, but a single glance from Anya made him change his mind.

"Ok, that leaves Giles, Willow, you, Spike and me." Buffy's face was grim. "There were four of those things left standing when they disappeared, plus your cousins, plus who knows how many more. I'm not liking these odds." 

Dawn piped up, "I can help." 

"You're staying right here," said Buffy firmly. "You've been in enough danger for tonight." 

"But it's Simon! You have to let me go! I..." 

Buffy cut her off. "You need to stay put. I can't rescue Simon if I'm worrying about you getting hurt." Her tone brooked no argument. Dawn crossed her arms and sat down forcefully in one of Giles' chairs, pouting. 

Buffy looked around at the others. "Anyone know what they want with Simon?" 

  
Solitude1056 

  
There was a long pause as everyone realized they could only think of one reason. 

Anya rolled Marcus' sleeve down and buttoned it carefully. Silently, she glanced at the sofa, and Marcus took it as a hint that he was dismissed. Grateful, he joined Buffy as he spoke. "To trade, or as a hostage, I suppose."

Dawn shook her head. "That doesn't make any sense. How did they know?"

"They have the... picture." Spike's voice was soft, pitched just for Dawn. Her face paled, as she glanced at him to see he was serious, and ashamed. Buffy was frowning thoughtfully.

"But the wards-" Buffy started.

"Simon answered the door," Dawn interrupted. "We thought it was the pizza guy," she added. Immediately Buffy softened, sighing as she nodded. There was a pause, and Dawn frowned. "They called him something, the guy did. He called Simon, 'little vessel.' That was weird."

"Please, no," Marcus moaned, a low sound. When Buffy raised her eyebrows at him, he lowered his eyes, ashamed. "They may be thinking he could be a replacement."

Anya looked confused. "Excuse me," she said, waving her hand hesitantly. "Why?" Marcus shook his head in response, uncertain, and looked at Dawn, then Buffy. Anya brought a bowl of warm water to Willow at the sofa. She placed it carefully on the coffee table, and stood up, obviously waiting for an answer.

"He's psychic," Buffy explained. "Mostly in dreams. But that doesn't mean-"

"That's not all," Dawn admitted, hesitant. "Tonight... I, uh, Simon and I figured out he carries the Monk's memories. He's got the information in his head of how... I was..." She didn't finish the sentence, closing her eyes.

Buffy became aware of Marcus, standing behind Anya. His eyes flickered from her to Dawn and back again, as he grasped the full portent of Dawn's words, even if he didn't have all the facts.

"He _is_ a vessel." Marcus' voice was low, but there was a note of terror underneath it as he realized the ramifications of his statement. "He's an incomplete vessel."

"Oh, God, no." Giles' face was strained as he hoped bitterly that Marcus was wrong. Quickly he began digging through the translated papers, desperately trying to find the passage from Charles about the ritual requirements. "It-it-it has to have someone who began at least partially as human, but has been changed through trauma or birth in contact with the demon realm. Marcus' pedigree would certainly, uh," Giles removed his glasses and cleaned them with a handkerchief from his pocket. "But, Simon-"

"Spent at least a human year in a demon dimension." Buffy's voice was flat, but her eyes were squinting. _God, I wasn't paying attention, I just assumed they were trying to get at Marcus or me._

"I see," Giles replied, and he did, all too well. He replaced his glasses and continued scanning the text. "Additionally, the vessel must have been instilled with energies not of its own. An incomplete vessel is one that does not contain the _full_ energies of its source. A vessel with the full energies would be self-containing, and closed off to additional energies not of its own making." Giles' voice dropped to a horrified whisper. "Simon meets the basic requirements."

Buffy stared at Giles, open-mouthed. Marcus closed his eyes, his face deathly pale as he recalled his own experience with what Simon must be facing. Dawn had come to her feet at Giles' words, and was swaying in shock. Quickly, she grabbed onto the table for support. Spike stepped a half-pace closer to her, ready to catch her if need be. 

"But what can we do?" Willow interjected, trying to get them back on track. She dipped the washcloth in the bowl and went back to washing the cut on Tara's head. 

  
Humanitas 

  
"Um, well." Giles cleared his throat nervously. "We might be able to reverse their ritual, but it's something of a long shot, I'm afraid." 

"We'll have to deal with it when we get there, then." Buffy turned to her sister. "Any ideas where they might have taken him?" Dawn's face was pale as no one spoke. 

Willow stepped forward. "I – I know a location spell that might work. Tara taught it to me." She blushed. "I kept losing my keys. I've never used it on a person, but it should be easy enough to tweak." Her face fell. "But I'd need something that belonged to the person." 

"Here." Dawn took the ring off her finger. Ignoring the raised eyebrows from her sister and Spike, she handed it to Willow. "He gave this to me this afternoon." 

Willow took the ring from her. "Ok, then. Here goes." She held the ring in her hand, and closed her eyes. "Diana, hear me. Reveal the one who is hidden. Let this ring guide my sight." A vision flashed in her head, and her eyes snapped open. She swayed a little at the force of it, then steadied herself on the back of the chair.

"It's easier with keys." She stared at the ring for a second, then handed back to Dawn. Willow looked at the others. "They're at the school..." Her expression was bleak as she looked steadily at Giles, ignoring Marcus and Dawn's reactions. "...And Simon is already in the center of a ritual circle." 

  
Solitude1056 

  


Taking a swift look around the group, Buffy sprang into action. "Enough talking. Grab some weapons." She turned without looking and promptly walked straight into Marcus. Startled, she yelped. Before Marcus could apologize, she fixed her gaze on him and said accusingly, "You _zapped_ me."

"Did not," Marcus replied amiably, but he blushed. "You did, you walked into me."

Buffy shook her head. "No, the energy, it's still there. You've still got it."

"What's that?" Giles came over. Behind them, Anya had finished making tea and was going back to check on Xander. Tara was still awake, but foggy. Dawn moved to sit with her. 

"The Slayer energy, I can feel it," Buffy turned on Giles, angrily. "We went through all that and it didn't even work?"

"Wait!" Willow stopped Buffy before the panic got the best of her. "I'm sure there's a reason. We checked everything, the time, the moon, the place, the people. Everything was right. It was our last chance before..."

"Not everything. He's still got it," Buffy insisted. Behind her, Marcus shrugged helplessly. 

"Not as much as I had," he offered quietly. "But she's right, it's still there."

"Our last chance," Tara echoed, dumbfounded. Her eyes wide, she twisted on the sofa to look at Giles, wincing slightly at the movement. Willow paled and headed for her, but Tara waved her off, focusing on Giles as she spoke. "When did the moon enter Void of Course in Capricorn?"

Stunned, Giles dug out the almanac and paged through it. "Nine fifty-seven, this past evening," he told her dully. Sighing in frustration, he yanked off his glasses and rubbed furiously at his eyes with the back of his hand. "I should've known to check, dammit, I should've-"

"What the what?" Buffy asked, confused. 

"Void of Course," Anya stated firmly as she set the tray on the kitchen pass through behind them. "It's a dead zone."

"Dead?" Buffy questioned.

"That's a-a-a strong way to put it," Willow said. "It's a gap, where it's best not to start anything new..."

"Naw, it's a dead zone," Anya replied. "When I was still working in vengeance, if a girl called me during void of course, it was real hard to get any of their wishes to work, let me tell you. It's like saying, hey, let's go sailing when there isn't any wind."

"And that means the energy did push through." Giles took a cup of tea from Anya. "But it also means it wasn't complete," he added. "The problem is, Charles repeatedly warns that the ritual should not be attempted twice."

"Why not?" Buffy asked. Marcus' eyes darted from the witches to Giles and back again. Anya handed Marcus a cup of tea and he took it automatically, hardly noticing her sympathetic expression. 

"You're saying I'm stuck with what I have now." Marcus' voice was devoid of emotion, but Buffy noticed his hands were gripping the mug tightly. "And I can't even do the full reversal ritual, and do it _right,_ this time?"

Giles winced at the look on Willow's face. Marcus noticed it too, and sighed. His shoulders slumped, and he shook his head. "I'm sorry. I just thought it was... over."

"You c-c-could do it again," Willow said. "But you saw what it was like when it was only at a quarter power." Buffy was still for a moment, then nodded. She caught Willow's meaning, as did the others. "I'd guess you're not open anymore, at least," Willow said. "The ritual was to take away the energy and seal you up in the aftermath, so you'd not be leaking energy pieces or be open to having more shoved into you. We might not have gotten as strong a push-"

"-But we did get some, since Faith felt it on her end," Anya offered helpfully. Willow nodded.

"No, you're shut off from the Slayer source," Tara said quietly. She reset the washcloth on her forehead and peered out from under it at him. "But you've still got Slayer energy. You're still not a regular guy." She attempted a smile for him. "You won't ever be, either," and she said it in such a way that he knew she meant it as a compliment. 

"That's one good thing," Marcus muttered, and glanced at Buffy, who raised her eyebrows at him. "I've got enough left to help you kill my cousins." 

  
Lady Starlight 

  


"Oh, no you don't, missy!" Anya lunged for the half-open door and slammed it shut, barely missing Dawn's fingers. She turned Dawn around and walked her into the living room. "You were told to stay here. My job is to make sure of it." 

Dawn glared at Xander, who had taken over the sofa. Tara had moved to the chair, but didn't say anything. Xander had betrayed her by yelling for Anya when Dawn thought he was asleep. 

"An is jailer extraordinaire." Xander patted the couch beside him and motioned to Dawn. "C'mere." Dawn flung herself onto the couch, jostling Xander's leg. At his sudden intake of air, she looked over and apologized guiltily. He moved his leg gingerly back to its original position and smiled at her. "I've suffered worse. Besides, how often do I get to spend the evening with three beautiful women, two of whom don't have head injuries?" He glanced at Tara, who smiled at him, amused. 

Anya perched on the arm of the couch. "I'm sure that Simon will be all right. He seemed like an… agile boy. Not to mention that he could run very fast." She leaned over and patted Dawn on the arm. "Don't worry." 

Dawn angrily shrugged Anya's hand off of her arm. "You know, I'm not a little kid any more. I really could've done stuff, stuff to help." 

Anya regarded Dawn with interest. A millennium dealing with various romantic woes had sharpened her instincts. "You care about him, don't you?" she asked softly. 

Dawn sniffed and swiped her hand across her face. "Yeah, I do." 

"Do you think that he'd've wanted you to get hurt?" 

Dawn glanced quickly up at Anya's face, then back down to the floor. "No." 

"I know it's hard waiting around when someone you care about is in danger, but—" 

Dawn burst into speech. "What if it was Xander?" Anya was speechless as Dawn continued. "What if Xander'd been kidnapped and really bad things were going to happen and everyone told you that you couldn't help? What would you do?" Anya could only look at the floor. 

Dawn threw her hands into the air and said, "You see! You'd go if it was Xander." She looked at Xander, who was also studying the floor intently. "Xander'd go if it was you. And Willow and Tara, same thing." Dawn looked at Tara, who could only shrug and give her a helpless half-nod. Dawn set her jaw and looked back at Anya. "How come when it's me it's different?" 

Anya was sure of her argument now. "Because you're younger than we are. And don't know how to fight." 

"Says the frying pan lady. Please." Dawn brushed angry tears away from her eyes. "I've got to go!" 

Anya looked at her for a long moment, and glanced at Tara and Xander, then sighed. "I'm going into the kitchen to make some more tea. Since it's possible someone moved the kettle while I wasn't looking, I'm going to have to open and close all the cupboards, making a lot of noise." Anya turned towards the kitchen, then abruptly turned back. "Don't forget to take the crossbows with you." 

Anya walked into the kitchen and opened and closed all of the cupboard doors at least once, making sure that her back was towards the living room. Meanwhile, Xander studiously kept his head down as if he were sleeping, and Tara pulled the washcloth down over her eyes. Several minutes later, the noise in the kitchen stopped and Anya returned to the living room. 

"You realize," Xander asked her as she sat down, "Buffy's not going to buy it." 

Anya looked dubious. "Maybe she'll rent it." 

Tara grinned widely, and Xander burst out laughing. "Oh, An. I love you." 

  
Lady Starlight 

  


Spike's steps dragged until he was walking behind the gang, reluctant for reasons he couldn't quite identify. He stopped and dug his cigarettes out of his pocket, glad to see they weren't soaked in the dash from the car across the old High School's parking lot. As he bent his head, he heard soft footfalls behind them. _What's this? _

He ducked quickly into a side hallway and waited. He was just about to pounce when he caught a whiff of scent. _Bloody hell, isn't she ever going to learn?_ He let her get just to the hallway entrance, then reached out and jerked her in. He covered her mouth with his hand and hissed in her ear, "Thought you were told to stay put?" 

She twisted in his loose grasp and smacked him on the chest. "Don't do that! You scared the snot out of me." Her wet hair hung in streaks over her shoulder. 

He leaned back against the wall and smirked at her. "'S my job, Bit. You look fetching. All drowned rat-y." She scowled, and he lit his cigarette and squinted at her through the smoke. "Weren't you told to stay put?" 

"Buffy always leaves me out of stuff. Simon's my uh, friend, not hers. He'd want me there, I know he would." 

_Time for lecture #537,_ he thought. "Buffy told you to stay home. Go on." He wasn't surprised when she stamped her foot. _I knew that was coming,_ he thought smugly. 

"I'm not going home, I'm coming!" She glared at him as she wiped her forehead to pull the wet hair from her eyes. "Simon's my boyfriend..." 

Spike's stunned mind fastened on the word 'boyfriend.' _Okay, I didn't know that one was coming._

"...Spike! Spike, listen to me." 

"Uh, what was that?" Still perplexed as to how she'd managed to acquire a boyfriend in the twelve hours since he'd last seen her, he managed to focus on her face. "No, I'm not getting in a debate with you. You're going home right now before your sister stakes me." He saw the tears welling up in her eyes and groaned, "Oh dammit, crying isn't fair." 

Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. "I'm scared. What if something happens?" 

"Now, now, Bit. Don't cry. Please don't cry." Spike could feel the same futile argument start in him between caving in versus doing what Buffy would want. _Still no immunity to her tears, dammit._ "I'll be there. I'll make sure nothing happens to your, to your, to him." 

"Please, Spike. I've got to be with him." 

"Well, I..." 

Dawn took that for a 'yes' or at least a 'not no' and went flying up the hallway, fumbling to get the crossbows out of the bag over her shoulder. Spike watched as she caught up with the rest of the group, her body language clearly defiant. _Oh great,_ he thought as Buffy turned around and started stomping towards him. _Bitty Buffy strikes again. At least she remembered to bring a weapon. Or two._

  
Rowan 

  


"Got a plan?" Willow asked softly as Marcus raised his hand to halt them, pointing to a light flickering down the hallway. Dawn joined them, and Buffy stormed off in Spike's direction without a word to her sister. 

"Not really. We can't use Charles' rituals under these conditions," Giles replied. "Assuming we could use a spell to remove Slayer energy in the case of a person who has added memories. I doubt they're interchangeable." 

"I've got an idea," Willow said, her mind working quickly. "I'm going to do a healing spell." Giles raised his eyebrows at the witch. Behind them, Dawn listened intently while she got her crossbows situated. 

"I'll strip Simon of energy and replace it with healing energy," Willow explained. "It's kind of like brain-sucking but in reverse, and no brains involved," she added. "Well, no sucking, either, so it's not really like it, but only sort of." 

"Yes, well, I'm sure that made sense to you," Giles replied. 

"Giles," Willow admonished. "I've even got rosemary and bay with me. Oh, and… Hmph. I don't need that." She picked out a breath mint out of the greenery in her hand, and tossed it to the side. She then brought out two small votives from her coat, one black, one white, nodding in satisfaction before tucking them back in her pocket. Then she dug into her other pocket and pulled out a small plastic cup, tucking the rosemary and bay sprigs into it. 

"You're using a plastic cup," Dawn asked, perplexed. Willow nodded. 

"Wasn't like I can always pack a cauldron, and this works just as well," she replied, sparing the time to flash a smile at the young girl. Dawn smiled in return, her own bravado heartened by Willow's refusal to show anxiety. 

  
Lady Starlight 

  


Spike pasted a patient look on his face as Buffy blocked his way, her hands on her hips. 

"Now look, Slayer. She set this up all by her own self. Turned the waterworks on and everything." 

"And I'm supposed to believe that?" 

He rolled his eyes at her. "Right. Like I helped her with this idiotic idea. She loves him, or at least she thinks she does. She wants to help, damn the consequences. Who do you think she learned that from?" 

Buffy had the grace to look somewhat abashed. "I still want to blame you, but you're right. Doesn't mean I'm all go Dawn, though. She can't even defend herself." Buffy watched her sister, standing beside Marcus as he shrugged off his jacket and left it in the hallway, preparing himself. Giles and Willow had finished arranging what they'd need for the ritual, and were waiting for them. 

"Dammit, Buffy! You won't let her learn to fight." Exasperated at the catch-22, Spike threw his hands up in the air, nearly shouting. Buffy glared at him. 

"I don't want her to have to _know_ how to fight. I don't want her to end up like -" 

"If you're gonna say," Spike interrupted, "that you don't want her ending up like you, I swear, I'll smack you myself, and to hell with the headache. There's no finer person she could be like." He sighed and hung his head. "Look. She should be there, in case..." 

Buffy read his meaning clearly, and sadness crossed her face. She glanced over at Dawn, who pointedly ignored her, staring off down the dark hallway. 

"Fine," she said, begrudgingly. "But I can't look after her and rescue Simon. You look after her, I'll get Simon. Got it?" 

"Got it." To his surprise, she didn't immediately move away, but paused long enough to smile at him. A sad smile, but a grateful one. Relieved, Spike followed her down the hallway to join the others. 

  


_[~ continue to next chapter ~][1]_

   [1]: 28-12.htm



	29. Chapter 28

dark alchemy : part V - Distillation : Chapter Twenty-Eight

  
**

chapter twenty-eight

**

Humanitas 

Simon looked up from the floor at the people dressing in black robes around him. Several were assisting each other, and one was handing out sheets and speaking quietly with each while pointing to various points around the circle over Simon's head. Beyond them, he could hear his abductor's voices, raised in argument. 

_For people on the same side, they sure do fight a lot,_ he mused, as he mentally checked himself over for injuries. His head and back hurt, but nothing felt broken. He was bound at his ankles with rope, lying on his side, and his wrists were tied in front of him. His shirt felt matted and wet. It took a few seconds for the strange pain radiating from his back to make sense in his foggy brain. 

_Feels like paper cuts from hell,_ he thought, wincing at the stinging sensation every time he moved. 

On the floor around him, he could see strange symbols scratched into the floor in black chalk, with larger circles radiating out from him. Large candles sat at regular intervals along other lines intersecting the circles. A woman's leather pants and thick-heeled boots came into his line of sight. With a fast turn as she spoke, she paced out of his sight as the man approached him. Simon let his eyelashes drop again, and kept his breathing steady as he listened intently. 

"This is stupid. There's no way this is going to convince our beloved cousin." Talia's voice dripped with sarcasm. "He's refused, already." 

"You still don't get it." Aeralyus was rapidly losing patience with his sister as he checked over the preparations and nodded to one of their relatives, who had just finished marking the circle. "Who cares about Marcus? The point is to end the line of Slayers. That is what the prophecies demand. Gaining a tame Slayer is a bonus. If that idiot won't play along, so much the worse for him. We have an... alternative candidate." He smiled down at Simon without warmth. 

A voice came from the doorway of the ruined library. "Oh, God. Not another election! We just had one, and it took forever." 

The twins whirled. Buffy was standing in the door if the burnt-out library. Aeralyus's eyes narrowed and his voice dropped to a growl. "Slayer." 

"What originality. Just once I'd like to run into a creative Big Bad." 

Talia was no more impressed. "This sarcastic little tramplet is the Slayer? You've got to be kidding me." She sniffed the air. "And she's brought us a friend." 

Marcus stepped into the room as Buffy moved aside. "Family, Talia. Not friend." 

Aeralyus barred his teeth at Marcus. "This is your last chance, cousin." 

"If you say 'join us or die,' I'm gonna have to point and laugh," interrupted Buffy. 

"Don't be ridiculous. Too late to join us. Now your options are die slow, or die fast." 

"That still gets a snicker." Her face became serious. "Let him go." 

"Or what, you'll quip us to death?" Talia was bored. "Come on, little Slayer." 

"I'm not just the Slayer." 

The twins glanced at each other, confused. Talia looked back at Buffy. "What else are you?"

"Find out," Buffy replied as she launched herself across the room at the woman, slamming her into the wall next to where Simon lay on the floor. She landed a couple of punches, before Talia swiped upwards, claws extended. Buffy jerked her shoulder back just in time to avoid the cut, and was caught off-guard by Talia's shove. 

  
Solitude1056 

  


"How many?" Willow asked as the three tucked themselves behind the wall that used to be Giles' office. 

"At least twelve, I think." Giles dug out an ax and a spellbook from the bag, giving Willow a grim look as he handed her the book. "They're busy starting the ritual. Spike can take out some." 

"You sure that's the start?" Willow couldn't make out the words. Peering over the wall, she squinted through the flickering candlelight, trying to determine the ritual's progress. "I can't tell." 

  
Humanitas 

  
"Does it matter?" Spike motioned Dawn back into the shadows, got to his feet, and hopped over the wall. 

"Spike, wait..." said Giles, but it was too late. The blonde vampire was already engaged with a pair of wolves. "Idiot." 

"What were you expecting," Willow asked, shrugging. "Come on, if we can take out those two already in the circle, it'll save us some time." Willow grabbed the spell book and Giles tightened his grip on the axe. 

  
Solitude1056 

  
"Stay here," Giles called to Dawn over his shoulder as Willow clambered over the wall and darted out to the circle. Dawn watched, impressed, as Willow shouted a word and tossed one of the chanting Marculs to the side. Giles was right behind her, and took out the second Marcul at the knees. 

  
Rowan 

  
Willow bent over Simon for a second, saying something to him, and nodded as he responded. She dug around in her pockets and brought out the black candle. 

"Dammit," she muttered, "the lighter. Giles, do you have a lighter?" 

"For the love of all that's holy," Giles shouted in exasperation. The first Marcul had gotten back up and was heading for him. "Use one of the lit candles!" 

Willow made a face, ducking as Giles punched the Marcul square in the face. "Right, my bad." She grabbed the candle, whispering to herself as the wick finally caught, then stood up straight. The witch took a quick measure of the chanting Marcul outside the circle's rim and cried in a loud voice, "Lord of Shadows, I summon thee with this candle. Bring thou the power of chaos." 

Dawn, watching from her spot in the old office, waited for a flash or an explosion, but nothing happened. The other Marcul seemed to be confused, and a few even seemed to be laughing as they continued to read the ritual from their books. The Marcul glanced at each other and closed ranks about the circle. Anxiously, Dawn craned her neck to see Willow poured some of the wax into the cup and set the candle on the ground next to Simon. 

  
Humanitas 

  


Marcus looked at his cousin as Buffy attacked. "What're you waiting for, Ari? Tired of picking on your little cousin?" 

"Never." Aeralyus closed with Marcus, claws extended, and slashed at his chest. "We no longer need you anymore, boy. That makes you expendable." He easily dodged Marcus' uppercut. "I've been waiting for this a long time." He flicked his wrist, sending his talons at Marcus' face. 

"It's mutual," Marcus replied. He put a hand to his cheek, the gash from his cousin's talons already dripping blood down the side of his face. He extended his own claws, for once savoring the feeling. _This is what I was meant to do. _The two men circled each other warily, claws extended, each looking for an opening. Marcus felt the Slayer rise within him and knew it was responding to the demon before him. His familiar companions of shame and worry were finally gone, and he savored what he knew he was going to have to do. 

There was a short scream from across the room, and he immediately glanced over at Buffy, who was herding Talia away from Simon. Buffy had scored a brutal hit on Talia, but Marcus' momentary inattention gave Aeralyus his chance. Aeralyus darted forward, and left a thin cut on Marcus' side. Marcus hissed at the pain and grabbed his cousin's wrist and twisted, at the same time kicking Aeralyus' knees out from under him. 

Aeralyus fell to the floor painfully, and rolled over, only to find Marcus already landing on him. Marcus rained blows down on his cousin's face, remembering all the beatings he'd sustained growing up. Aeralyus swept both hands in the direction of Marcus' face, forcing him back, then doubled both hands into a single fist and slammed them into Marcus' solar plexus. Grabbing his cousin's arm, he rolled to his right, pulling Marcus off of him. 

_Spike is so brave. _Dawn peeked around the edge of the doorframe as the blond vampire squared off against the two demons in the black robes standing over Simon. _And Buffy, taking on that big skanky ho like that. Now I've just got to get to Simon._

Spike had taken out one of the chanting Marcul already, but a second one was putting up a bigger fight. Giles and Willow were standing on either side of Simon, their backs to each other. Simon was struggling to sit up, but Willow and Giles were too busy defending themselves against the Marcul. 

_ Omigod. What's happening to him? I have to help him._ Dawn brought up the crossbow in her right hand, trying desperately to steady it enough to get a clear shot at the Marcul. Her hand kept shaking. She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, as Spike had taught her. 

_Come on,_ she thought, _they're counting on me._ Dawn set down her other weapon, and brought her left hand up under her right. Looking down the length of the shaft, she stared at the Marcul as it swiped its open hand at Giles' chest. 

Giles ducked, and she saw her opening. She squeezed the trigger and felt the string release. The bolt caught the wolf full in the chest, and he started back in surprise. Looking up, his eyes fixed on Dawn, and he let out a howl of rage. His outcry was interrupted by the blade of Giles' axe sinking into his throat. 

Dawn heaved a sigh of relief. _I got him!_ She reached down for her other crossbow, and moved towards the ritual space. She'd gotten halfway across the room when another wolf suddenly reared up behind her, snarling. Dawn spun in place at the sound, and screamed. She jammed her remaining crossbow into her attacker's belly, pulling the trigger. Backing away from the wolf in horror, she tripped, and landed with a solid thud almost on top of Simon. Distantly, she heard Spike shouting, and Willow's responding cry. 

The wolf leapt after her, the bolt sticking out of his stomach, and was halted in mid-leap. He hung there, confused, and Dawn saw the redheaded witch standing on the other side of the circle, her arm raised. She gave a flick of her wrist, and smashed the Marcul against the wall headfirst. He slumped to the floor, leaving a dark stain on the wall behind him. 

Dawn looked up at Willow. "Thanks." 

"No problem, kiddo." The witch smiled, her irises coming back into view. "Now come on, we've got a ritual to do." Dawn smiled and sat up as Willow handed her a small knife, jerking her head in the direction of the ropes around Simon's wrists and ankles. Dawn set to, shutting out the sounds of her sister fighting as she tried to get the knots undone. 

  
Solitude1056 

  
"Glad you could make it," Simon quipped feebly and jerked his head in Buffy's direction. "Your sister's amazing." Dawn frowned slightly but Simon grinned, teasing her. "I see she takes after you." 

  
Rowan 

  


Over their heads, Willow stood up again, holding out the lit white candle. "Lady of Discord," she cried, "I summon thee with this candle. Take thou the pain of this boy." Again pouring a little of the wax into the cup, she set the candle on the other side of Simon, then motioned to Dawn as Simon sat up. 

  
Humanitas 

  


"Ooh, a little push? Is that the best you can do? Or don't they teach you to fight in Skanky Demon School," Buffy taunted Talia. _Got to get her away from Simon - and Dawn, Dawn! What's she doing? _

Talia snarled in response, and slashed at the Slayer. Buffy easily caught Talia's wrist and pulled her arm over her shoulder, throwing the Marcul into what had once been Oz's cage. The metal mesh gave easily, and Talia sailed right through. Buffy followed, climbing over the wreckage. "Wow, that's a nasty gash you got there. That's gonna put a cramp on your streetwalking." 

Talia struggled to her feet. "I'm going to slit you wide open." She flexed her fingers, extending her claws. 

"Not too smart, are you," Buffy filled her voice with mock regret as she picked up a broken board. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that a girl with a stick beats a girl with a knife?" She swung the board at Talia's head. 

Talia ducked, and swiped at Buffy's side, cutting her jacket. "Not if the girl with the knife is quicker." 

  
Solitude1056 

  


"You want me to what?" Dawn scanned the book quickly. 

"Read the verses on these two pages."

"I don't get it," Dawn replied. "Why can't we just leave now?" 

"I don't want to risk it," Willow snapped, then softened. "I don't know where in the ritual they are, and if we just halt the ritual then... bad things could happen. So we've got to undo what they've done. Just read each word, out loud. Don't skip anything." 

"That's the ritual?" 

"Well, kind of," Willow said. She spoke fast, her attention divided between Giles struggling with another Marcul and Dawn's uncertainty. "Mine couldn't work because their magick is too strong. Your part will neutralize their ritual, and create a hollow space. Then I'll be able to complete my ritual, drawing out the extra energy so Simon's not a vessel anymore. Got it?" 

  
Marie 

  
"Yeah, okay, I think so," Dawn replied and turned to Simon, who was almost done sawing the ropes around his ankles. She gave him a confident smile. "Don't worry. We're old pros at this sort of thing. We're gonna get you out safe and sound." 

  
Humanitas 

  


Aeralyus got to his feet and kicked Marcus savagely. Marcus rolled away, wincing from the impact as he clambered to his feet. Despite the pain, he felt better than he usually did after a confrontation with his cousin. He even managed to smile a little as he waited for Ari to attack. 

Aeralyus lashed out with a powerful spinning kick. Marcus sidestepped the kick and gave his cousin's foot a little extra push as it went by. The momentum sent Aeralyus off balance, and Marcus rushed in, slamming his shoulder into his opponent's side. Giving him no time to recover, Marcus wrapped his arm around Aeralyus' back, set his hip, and heaved, slamming him heavily to the floor. 

Getting up, Marcus delivered a kick of his own to his cousin's ribs. "See how _you_ like it, cousin." He spat the words as he leaned over his older cousin. Aeralyus' only response was a straight jab to the nose. 

"Hey, this jacket is new!" Buffy swung the board again. This time, Talia wasn't quite quick enough, and it caught her in the stomach. She doubled over. Buffy raised the board for a second shot, and was surprised when Talia rolled forward. The end of the board hit the floor with a sharp crack. 

Talia rolled to her feet, and turned, just in time to block the upswing of Buffy's next attack. She wrapped her fingers around the board, and pulled, causing Buffy to stumble. Talia lost no time in twisting Buffy's weapon out of her grasp. 

"Now I've got the stick," Talia said as she blocked a punch with it, "and the knife." She swept her hand down in a diagonal arc, cutting deeply through the jacket and into the flesh of Buffy's arm. 

Buffy grabbed the wound instinctively, and aimed a kick at the hand holding the board. Talia was so surprised at the speed of Buffy's attack that she was unable to get her hand out of the way, and the board went flying through the air. 

  
Lady Starlight 

  


Dawn laid down the book as Willow's words sunk in. Simon noticed her expression, and gave her a curious look. She fingered the edges of the book, reluctantly scanning the ritual's verses as her eyes began to fill up with tears. 

"What?" Simon reached out and took her hand.

"She's going to take away the extra parts of you - the monk memories. But she can't! I need you to tell me about... stuff nobody else can." 

He squeezed her hand gently. "You don't need to know that stuff to be you." 

She wiped the tears from her eyes. "Yes, I do!" 

"No, you don't. You're Dawn. It doesn't matter now that you've only been... here for a little while. You have people who love you," he gestured to Buffy, Spike and Willow, "for who you are. It doesn't matter where you start, only where you end up." 

Dawn had a weird sense of déjà vu for a minute, then remembered Spike's words. _Seems to me it doesn't matter what you start out as, it's where you end up that counts._

  
Humanitas 

  


Dazed, Marcus stood up quickly as the blood ran down his lip. His wondered vaguely just how much blood the body can hold. Aeralyus was getting to his feet, watching his younger cousin's momentary confusion as a board landed by his feet. He scooped it up, and without hesitation swung it hard against Marcus' jaw.

Marcus could taste the blood in his mouth as the first blow fell. He had no chance to defend himself against his cousin's rage. As he tried to bring up his arms to ward off the hail of blows, the board cracked against his skull. The pain resounded through his head, and Marcus stopped moving. 

  
Lady Starlight 

  


Dawn's eyes were closed as she tried to convince herself that Simon was wrong, but deep inside, she knew he was right. She realized he was calling her name. Hesitantly, she opened her eyes to stare into his. Simon's green eyes were flecked with gold from the candle flames.

"Dawn, please, listen to me. I can't remember anything about where I came from, who I was, and that's okay. I don't need to know that stuff to make a place in this world." 

"But what if..." her voice trailed off as she gathered her courage. "What if, when it's over, you don't like me anymore?" 

He smiled at her. "My liking you is non-negotiable," he joked. "Willow had better leave that part in. Besides, this is important. Buffy needs this." 

"Screw Buffy," she muttered. 

He shook his head. "Your sister's a Slayer. I don't know what that means exactly, but in my book, she's a hero. And if they get their way, it'll will get rid of Slayers, right?" Dawn nodded slowly as Simon kept speaking. "And the world needs all the heroes it can get." He paused, and she shrugged her agreement. He continued, "So we need to stop them. It's something that has to be done, and we're the only ones who can do it." He looked at her despairing face and added, "The sooner we do this, the sooner we can go out and do something fun." 

"Okay, just no more raves." She smiled at him, shyly, then glanced up at Willow. "We're ready when you are." 

"Go for it," Willow replied as she noticed Marcus' body curled up at his cousin's feet. Swallowing hard, she focused on Dawn and hoped the girl didn't look over to see how things were unfolding. Willow glanced over at the Marcul about to slice Spike, and nodded her head once. The wolf was thrown backwards off Spike. Willow ignored Spike's indignant shout. 

  
Liquidram 

  


Aeralyus was startled by the vampire's yell and turned in time to see one of the Marcul flying into a wall. "Keep chanting, dammit," he yelled at the remaining Marcul. "Finish the ritual, we'll do the fighting!" 

Four had laid down their parchments and were forming a circle around Spike. The tallest of the four snarled at the vampire, but obeyed and moved with the rest, away from the circle. Spike, confused at the unexpected reprise, began to follow the group, but stopped short, distracted by the site of Buffy and Talia fighting. With a low growl in his throat and his eyes flashing, he moved towards them, tackling the first Marcul in his path. 

  
Solitude1056 

  


Willow turned in place, keeping the Marcul at bay. The demons had surrounded the ritual space, trapping Giles and her into the circle with Simon and Dawn. They continued to chant, and Willow could see flickers of power running through the lines and circles drawn on the floor, but her vigilance was focused on keeping the Marcul from moving in closer. 

She looked over as another wolf sprang at Giles, transforming from human to demon and back again as it slammed up against him. Behind the two figures, Willow could see several more Marcul chanting. Furious that she hadn't noticed them hidden there before, she pointed her hand at them, her fingers outstretched, her palm facing down. 

"Lapis, Ruby, Diamond, Sapphire," she shouted. _"Bring forth flame and set in fire!"_ She was satisfied to see the Marcul drop their now-burning ritual sheets. "The good ones memorize beforehand," she said smugly to no one in particular. 

  
Humanitas 

  


Aeralyus turned around, his ears caught by the sound of a female voice drowning out the Marcul. He glared at Willow from over Marcus' huddled body, the broken board in his hand. 

"Oh, no, we can't have that," Aeralyus retorted and threw what was left of the board as hard as he could, aiming directly for Willow's head. Seeing it fly towards her, the witch flung up her hand and shouted something in Latin. The board rebounded, arcing toward the ceiling. 

A frown crossed Aeralyus' face. _Very well, witch. I can play that game, as well._ His eyes went black as he raised his hand. "_Conquasso!_" 

Flashes of purple lightning lit up the room as Willow's temporary barrier bore the impact of his will. Dawn, at Willow's feet, glanced up at the shout. Simon's face was drawn and gray, and he tugged at her hand to remind her to keep going. Steeling herself, she continued to read the ritual's nonsense words one at a time.

_ This seems silly, but whatever, _she thought. _If it undoes what the chanty guys were raising, that's good._ She glanced at Simon, whose eyes flashed in an encouraging smile. Heartened, she concentrated on the words again, her voice getting stronger.

Willow cried out as she felt the attacking mind crash against hers. Giles looked up from his task at the flash of conflicting energies. He raised his arms to ward his face as the circle collapsed. It buckled in on itself, and the air was clear. Willow's head snapped up. Her eyes were entirely black, not a trace of iris or white. 

"No." Her voice was cold. "What I have wrought shall not be put asunder." She raised her arms, and set the circle's energies back in place, falling to her knees from the effort. 

"Dear God, Willow!" Giles leapt across the circle, the still-uncompleted ritual forgotten for the moment. 

  
Humanitas 

  
Buffy saw Willow fall. "Wil!" She grabbed Talia and threw her aside, ignoring the slashing claws. _Got to get his attention away from her. _

"Hey, Wolf-boy!" Buffy charged across the room towards Aeralyus. "You wanna dance? My card's open." She grimaced inwardly at her accidental Spike-ism as she barreled into the demon. 

The impact bore Aeralyus backward, causing him to stumble over the remains of the office wall. He fell to the floor, the Slayer on top of him. He snarled, pushed her off of his chest, and aimed a murderous stroke at her neck with his talons. She rolled sideways, barely avoiding the attack, and got her feet back underneath her. 

Talia lifted herself up from where she'd come to rest against the wall. Across the room, she saw her brother fighting with the Slayer. The girl faced her opponent, her back to Talia. Talia smiled, even as she winced in pain. _Two to one. I always did like those odds._ She started across the room, but came up short as Spike stepped directly in front of her. 

"Hello, love." He cocked his head at her and leaned casually against the wall. "I been thinking about our last date, and we really ended on the wrong note. Want to give it another go?" 

She glanced over at the Slayer's back. _The little bitch can wait. Besides, my brother can take care of himself. _ She smiled. "Sure." 

  
Solitude1056 

  


"I'm up, I'm up," Willow replied as Giles helped her to her feet. "Just surprised me." 

  
Marie 

  
"Are you fit enough to carry on?" Giles asked her, worriedly. 

"Can't stop now, can we," Willow remarked to Dawn, who had looked up quickly at Giles' question. 

  
Solitude1056 

  
Dawn had started on the final verse of the ritual, laboriously reading each word. Her finger poised to save her place, she glanced up at Simon, who nodded, encouraging her. She smiled quickly, and picked up where she'd left off when a sudden crackle of light danced across the page. Startled, she glanced up to see thin beams of light dancing across Simon's skin like static electricity gone wild. His eyes were open but he didn't seem to be in pain. 

"What's happening?" she cried, frightened. 

"You're the one with the directions," he said, trying to crack a joke. "I think it's finishing up or something. Doesn't hurt, but feels weird." 

Dawn scanned the page. "Can't be me," she replied. "I'm not done with the last verse." 

"Well, keep reading then. I think you're doing something right. I don't know why or how but it feels like it's working." 

  
Marie 

  
She glanced at him, worried. "Okay, but if it starts to hurt, holler, will ya?" 

He smiled at her, a weary expression. "Don't worry – if it starts hurting, you'll know about it!" 

  


_[~ continue to next chapter ~][1]_

   [1]: 29-12.htm



	30. Chapter 29

dark alchemy : part V - Distillation : Chapter Twenty-Nine

  
**

chapter twenty-nine

**

Humanitas 

Spike and Talia faced each other. "You have something of mine," he said, trying desperately to keep the emotion out of his voice. "I want it back." 

She smiled, and reached into the back pocket of her pants. Pulling out the picture of Dawn and Buffy, she held it lightly between her fingertips, teasing him with it. "You mean this?" Her tone was light, almost coquettish. "Come and get it." 

Spike lunged for the photograph. Talia pulled it out of the way and smacked him across the face. "You didn't ask nicely, lover." 

"You want nice?" Spike rolled his shoulders as his fangs grew and his forehead set into distinct ridges. _Time to show this wanna-be what it means to be the Big Bad,_ he thought and leaped at Talia, delighting viciously in the demonic power, his eyes flashing amber as he fell on her. 

She stumbled backwards under his weight, the picture slipping out of her grasp. She punched him but he smoothly blocked her fist, and followed the block with a hail of blows on her face, head and shoulders. He laughed as he punched her repeatedly, wildly, reveling in the violence. 

"I've. Done. The. Nice. Thing." Spike's voice was raised, and with each syllable, he emphasized his scorn with another blow. He pulled back, grabbing Talia's hair. "I'm bloody well over it." He yanked her to her feet and held her there for a moment, her back arched, his face just inches from hers. "I just got her back, see, and nobody gets to take her away from me again, got it?" He shoved Talia hard, sending her crashing into the wall. In two steps he was leaning over her. "Not to mention we've had our fill of two-bit floozies." 

Talia looked up at Spike, a sarcastic smile despite the bruises already forming across her forehead. A stream of blood ran from one nostril. 

"Well, aren't you heroic," she jeered as she curled her feet up and kicked out. The unexpected force sent Spike flying backwards. "I heard you used to kill Slayers." She got to her feet, sauntered over to him, and put one foot on his chest, keeping him from rising. "Now you fall in love with them. You're a pathetic lapdog." 

Spike only snarled in response and grabbed her ankle, rolling to the side. His movement threw her off-balance, and she fell heavily to the floor beside him. He climbed on top of her and grabbed her hair once again with his other hand on her shoulder. 

"Maybe," he replied, running the tip of his tongue over his fangs. "But this lapdog still bites, baby." He barred his teeth wickedly as he got a better purchase on her hair and slammed her head against the floor. 

Before he could attack again, Talia surprised him with a strong shove, and he fell backwards off of her. He rolled and got his feet under him, only to be knocked down again as she slammed her shoulder into his stomach. He landed on his back. Before he could sit up, Talia was beside him with a knee on his chest holding him down. 

"Poor, pretty-boy vampire," she mocked. Spike punched her squarely in the jaw, but the angle wasn't enough to get much momentum and she grabbed ahold of his wrist with her opposite hand, tightening her grip until her talons cut into his arm. He growled as she shoved him back down, her other knee painfully pinning his wrist to the floor. Spike kicked with one leg but couldn't dislodge her. 

"Doubt the girls will still think you're still handsome with your face all cut to ribbons," she spat, and raised her other hand. Extending her talons, she swept her hand towards Spike's face. The blow never connected as someone grabbed her wrist. 

"What-" Talia looked up. "Marcus?" 

"That's enough, Tal." Her cousin's face was grim as he added both hands to his grip on her arm, twisted, and kicked her hard in the ribs. Spike rolled out from under her and got to his feet as Marcus pulled Talia up by the arm. 

Spike's visage appeared behind her. "Not just yet, it's not," he told Marcus. Spike put a hand on either side of Talia's head and twisted. Her neck snapped audibly and she crumpled to the ground. Spike picked up the photograph and his face relaxed, the ridges fading as his eyes lost their amber glow. He glanced at the photograph quickly before looking Marcus in the eye. "Now it's enough." 

"Willow!" Dawn's voice was tight. She'd jumped up as Simon was pulled to his feet by an unseen energy. His slight form was bathed in energy, and his back was arched. He stood painfully on his tiptoes, every muscle in his body tight. Lightning of various colors played wildly across him, and blood began to seep through his shirt. 

  
Marie 

  
Willow glanced over at Simon, and then Dawn. _She's too young for this,_ she thought, _she should be dating this kid, not trying to stop him losing his lifeblood._ Aloud, Willow told Dawn, "Keep reading! That's all we can do for now. Just finish the ritual!" Willow turned barely in time to see a second Marcul leap for Giles, and with a quick nod of her head, the demon was thrown backwards several feet, landing on one of the candles. 

  
Humanitas 

  
Giles' attacker, distracted by his compatriots' outraged howl, didn't duck low enough. The edge of the Watcher's axe buried itself in the demon's skull just below the ear. The wolf toppled to the floor. Giles shoved the body roughly out of the circle, and returned his attention to the ritual. Dawn had finished her part of the ritual, but Willow was having a difficult time holding off the remaining Marcul while trying to summon the energy for the final healing. She turned her jet black eyes towards Giles. 

"I need help!" Her voice was clear, but somehow distant. Muttering a quiet prayer for his soul, Giles nodded, and opened his mind to the young witch. 

Aeralyus' eyes lit up as he caught sight of Dawn leaning over Simon. "Time to change partners, Slayer." Reaching out with his mind, he tossed Buffy towards the Hellmouth's gaping entrance. Willow, turning in shock, cried out again and Buffy hit an invisible wall, bouncing off with a thud. 

Aeralyus' eyes were focused on Dawn. She'd closed the book and set it aside, transfixed by the energies playing over Simon's body. 

  
Rowan 

  
Beside her, Willow held the two candles as she tried to light the greenery in the cup. As the sprigs caught, the flames played across her face and she held out the cup, a look of triumph on her face. With one hand outraised at Simon, she invoked the final line of the ritual, her mind linked with Giles as he repeated the lines with her.

"Lady of the Silver Wheel, Keeper of the Cauldron of Life, I beg thee," she cried, impervious to Aeralyus' enraged roar as he strode towards her. "Heal thou his pain. Give life-" 

  
Solitude1056 

  


Her invocation was cut short as Aeralyus pointed a hand in her direction, muttering a single word in Greek. Willow was thrown across the room, slamming into the wall and sliding down it without a sound. Her small cup was thrown into the air, arcing gracefully before beginning its downward descent. 

Buffy's eyes widened and she nearly screamed, seeing her best friend knocked unconscious. Giles was scrambling towards Willow as the small cup impacted an invisible boundary over Dawn and Simon's heads. A blinding light eclipsed the circle, crackling intensely as a kaleidoscopic array shot through the old library. Simon pulled Dawn down to the ground, shielding her body with his as the burst sent Aeralyus back two paces. 

The light faded almost as quickly, and Dawn looked up first, seeing Aeralyus heading towards them. The lines of the circle crackled in purple energy, bordering the circle and lighting Dawn with an unnatural glow as she immediately scrambled to her feet. In one step, she'd placed herself between Aeralyus and Simon, with only her defiant expression to protect herself and Simon.

"You can't have him," she told Aeralyus, who laughed. Dawn didn't flinch as he closed the gap between them. 

  
Humanitas 

  
_I'll never make it in time,_ Buffy thought frantically as she got to her feet. "Spike!" she hollered. "Dawn!"

Spike hurled himself across the intervening space, tackling Dawn out from under Aeralyus' closing grasp. A single talon grazed the side of Dawn's forehead, and the blood began to flow. Buffy crashed into Aeralyus from behind, sending him hurtling headfirst into the wall. 

"Nobody cuts my little sister," she shouted. Her words were lost on the demon however, who merely slid down the wall, and did not move. There was a sudden silence in the room. Marcus gazed at Buffy standing over the still form of his cousin. 

  
Lady Starlight 

  
Dawn lifted her face from Spike's chest. The circle's energies faded, and Spike breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed his face as he ascertained quickly that Dawn was cut, but otherwise safe. In the corner, Giles lifted Willow, cradling her head on his shoulder as he called her name softly. The bodies of the Marcul lay scattered about the circle. 

"Simon?" Dawn sat up, Spike following her closely, unwilling to let her out of arm's reach. She knelt beside him. A small crackle of energy arced across his form as she reached out, shook his shoulder gently. 

"Wake up," Dawn repeated and shook Simon a little harder. Dawn looked up at Spike, eyes wide with shock. "It's done, why isn't he waking up?" 

Spike knelt beside her, searching for the right words. He felt Buffy's presence as she and Marcus came to stand behind him, then all his attention was focused on Dawn. "Dawn, honey, he's not going to wake up. He's dead." 

She shook Simon gently, then harder. "No, no he's not dead." 

Spike put his hands over hers. "Look at me." 

Her eyes were filling with tears. "It's my fault. It's all my fault. I did this to him." 

He closed his eyes briefly as memories raced through his mind. Pain wracking his body. _I'll tell you who the sodding key is._ Doc's hands hard on his shoulders, a knife in his gut. Dawn's horrified look as Doc threw him off the platform. _Until the end of the world, even if it is tonight._ Crying as if he would never stop when he saw her body. _My fault, all my fault._ "Luv, listen to me. Have I ever lied to you?" 

She shook her head, wordlessly begging him to somehow make sense of this newest loss for her. 

"This is not your fault," he repeated. "You were only trying to help him. You did help him." 

"No, he was scared. He didn't want to do this. I made him do it." 

He squeezed her hands harder. "You didn't make him do anything. He wanted to do this. It should never have happened to him, it's unfair and it sucks. But you helped him. You... loved him. And sometimes that's all you can do." 

  
Humanitas 

  
Marcus stood there, amazed at the tenderness in the Vampire's voice. _There's more to this legend than meets the eye, isn't there? I don't get it. He's every bit as savage as people say._ The snap of Talia's neck replayed itself in Marcus' head. _But he's also capable of... this._

"Little cousin." Marcus started at the words breathed in his ear, and found himself face-to-face with Aeralyus. He had no time to react as his cousin grabbed him and threw him roughly across the room. Aeralyus followed him, his face a mask of fury. "You killed Talia. You're a traitor to your clan and to your mother's memory." 

Aeralyus' voice broke Buffy out of her reverie. She turned and saw the demon advancing on Marcus, who was getting to his feet. The wall behind him was cracked from the impact of his body being thrown. 

"Spike. Get Dawn out of here," Buffy shouted over her shoulder as she looked for an opening in the fight between the cousins. 

"No way. Let Giles do it. I'm not leaving you to fight that thing." 

"Don't argue. I need you to protect her, and Willow. Just go." She turned and dove after Aeralyus. 

Giles got to his feet. "I've got Willow." He pulled the young witch's arm across his shoulders, and headed for the door. She moaned softly at the movement, her feet moving automatically. 

  
Lady Starlight 

  
Spike pulled Dawn gently to her feet. "We've got to get out of here." 

"No!" She sobbed as she fought against his firm hands. "We can't leave him here. Not like this. He wouldn't like it. Let go of me, I won't-" Spike half-dragged, half-carried Dawn as she continued to fight him, her sobbing becoming a keening sound, anguished and wordless. 

Buffy hollered at them. "What are you waiting for, Christmas?" 

Spike continued to cajole Dawn as the girl clawed at his arms. "I promise, I swear to you, I'll come back when it's safer_,_" Spike told her, then yelped as one of her flailing fists accidentally catching him in the jaw. Frustrated, he grabbed Dawn by both arms and spun her around, prepared to throw her over his shoulder. "But we have to get out _now._"

Dawn twisted in his grasp and fell silent, her eyes blazing as the blood drained from her face. Spike risked a quick look back. Simon's body was aging before their eyes. Dawn continued to stare, and Spike shoved her back several steps. Dawn remained frozen in shock, watching as Simon's body gently crumbled into dust. 

  
Humanitas 

  
Dawn screamed, a long drawn-out cry of pain, and leaped for the circle. Spike grabbed her and bodily lifted her off her feet, following Giles and Willow out at a dead run. 

Buffy knocked Aeralyus down. _Dammit, I just met this guy. I'm not going to let him get killed!_ She pressed the attack, and was surprised as he raised his hand and muttered something in Italian. She felt herself pushed aside, and came to rest just at the edge of the hole in the floor that led down into the Hellmouth. 

Fortunately, the delay gave Marcus enough time to get to his feet. He went after his cousin, talons out. He slashed at Aeralyus' side, and was rewarded with the sight of blood. Aeralyus clutched at his wound, and delivered a vicious backhand slap to Marcus' face. The force of the blow knocked Marcus back, slamming him again into the wall. He lurched back onto his feet, leaving a widening crack in the wall behind him. 

Aeralyus thrust his talons into Marcus' shoulders, enjoying the feel of the blood running down his fingers. Marcus screamed in pain, and Aeralyus smiled, enjoying the moment before he administered the final cut to Marcus' throat. 

His attack was interrupted by Buffy's arm sliding around his neck. She pulled him to her, choking him. He grabbed her arms, and dropped to the floor, practically sitting on her feet. Rolling back, he jammed his feet up against her chest, and rolled his body forward, kicking out as he did so. The blood on his hands caused her wrists to slip out of his grasp, and she, too, flew into the wall, as Marcus ducked out of the way. 

Bits of the ceiling fell around her as Buffy hopped to her feet. She saw Marcus driving Aeralyus back, and moved to assist. 

Aeralyus saw her coming, as he blocked Marcus' attacks, backing toward the center of the room. Casting around for a weapon, he spied a pile of rubble lying near the door. He reached out with his mind, and sent a chunk of cinder block flying toward the slayer. It caught her in the side, and she paused. Taking yet another step back to avoid a kick from his cousin, he reached out again, this time coming up with a long piece of rebar. As it came toward the slayer, she spun and plucked the steel bar out of the air. 

"What, you think I never saw Star Wars?" She spun her newfound weapon in her hand, and charged towards the two men. Running at full speed, she planted the bar in the floor, and vaulted into a kick, catching Aeralyus full in the chest. He flew back, and hit the wall next to the hole in the floor. 

A crack formed in this wall as well, running across the ceiling to join with the crack already formed on the other side of the room. The building began to groan. 

Spike looked up at the sound, as they moved through the hall. "That can't be good. C'mon, people, we've got to move faster, or this thing'll come down around our ears." Giles grunted, burdened by Willow's weight. Spike took over, lifting Willow off her feet. "I've got her. You two go on. We'll be right behind you." 

Aeralyus got up, saw his opponents waiting for him, the Hellmouth off to his right. He plunged in between them, kicking Marcus in the stomach. Marcus stumbled back, and swung his arms in the air, trying to keep his balance at the edge of the hole. 

Buffy swung the bar at Aeralyus, who caught it, and shoved with both body and mind, knocking her to the ground, forcing her to let go. He spun the end of the bar towards her, and stabbed it at her, like a spear. She rolled aside as the end thunked into the floor, then rolled back, grabbed the weapon, and lashed out with her foot. The kick forced him to release his grip, and she slammed the far end of the bar into his chest, sending him stumbling backwards. 

Marcus had just regained his balance when he saw his cousin come hurtling toward him. Marcus bit back a cry from the pain and threw himself forward, catching Aeralyus and bringing them both down. Sitting up, he leveled a solid punch at Ari's chin and had the satisfaction of hearing a solid thud as Ari's head hit the floor. 

Marcus gazed at his cousin as he straddled him, the rebar still planted in his cousin's chest. _Goodbye, Ari._ He became aware of Buffy's hand on his shoulder. 

"Come on," she said urgently, "We've got to get out of here." The noise of the building's collapse was growing louder. 

"No," Marcus spat out, and threw her hand off him. "I won't make it-"

"Yes, you will," Buffy shot back, taking in the blood still seeping from the severe gashes on his shoulders, and the wild look in his eyes. "I'm not leaving you-"

"I'll make it if you _get the hell out!_" Marcus suddenly roared at her, and Buffy took a step back as she saw his eyes, obsidian in the flickering light. "_Go!_" he yelled. Angrily, she hesitated a last second before turning and sprinting out. 

A large chunk of the ceiling fell nearby as Marcus yanked the rebar from his cousin's chest. _I took the Rite,_ he thought, _I know what to do._ Giving in to his demonic heritage, he opened himself to the waves of pain radiating from Ari's body. With an animal scream, he plunged the rebar back into his cousin's body, and his cousin's responding pain echoed back at him, flooding him with power. 

_My turn now, you bastard,_ Marcus thought, afire. He yanked the rebar up and thrust it down again, nearly screaming a second time as the energy crackled from his cousin's body and poured into him. Throwing the rebar aside, he lifted his cousin's body. He felt a final surge of energy as the heartbeat ceased, and threw the corpse into the pit with a howl. As he watched the body fall, there was a resounding crash, and the ceiling over the Hellmouth caved in. 

Spike rushed out of the old school building into the light drizzling rain. Giles and Dawn were just ahead of him, standing on the lawn, looking back at the building. Giles had his hand on Dawn's shoulder as she sobbed, her hands clenched into fists. Spike set Willow down on the grass next to them, and turned to look as a section of the building crashed in on itself with a dull roar. His jaw dropped open. Beside him, Dawn screamed, a wordless anguished cry. 

"Oh, God, no. Not again." Tears blinded his vision as he started towards the building. _I can't bear to lose her again._

He was stopped even as he began by Giles' voice. "Spike, wait." The ex-Watcher put his hand on Spike's shoulder. "If she's alive, she and Marcus can get out on their own. If she's gone, there's nothing you can do, except take care of Dawn." 

Spike blinked the tears away, and stared into the darkness of the entry to the ruined building. _Is that...?_ He thought at first his eyes were playing tricks on him, then whooped with joy as a lone figure emerged slowly out of the dark. He shook off Giles' hand, and rushed to her, unable to stop himself from enfolding Buffy in an enormous hug. 

Dawn joined them quickly, not waiting until Spike had let go before she, too, wrapped her sister in a hug. Pulling back, she scanned the space behind Buffy, glancing at her sister with puzzled eyes.

"But..."

Buffy shook her head, and Dawn's eyes teared up, acknowledging her sister's anger and loss. She wrapped her arms around her sister a second time, and the two clung to each other for several seconds. 

"Don't mean to interrupt, but I'd appreciate a hand."

The two sisters sprung apart, spinning to find Marcus swaying as he did his best to smile at them, his jacket hanging loose in his hand as the drizzling rain beat down on him. Dawn gasped and shrunk back behind Buffy. Her eyes wide took in the cruel gash running down Marcus' cheek, the bruises on his forehead and cheek, the matted shirt, caked with blood and dust, and the wide slices across his shoulders and torso where he'd been cut. 

"I know," he said, trying to chuckle, "I must look a sight." Before Marcus could say anything else, Spike had stepped forward and gripped Marcus' arm, hoisting the young man as he wrapped his free arm around Marcus' body to keep him upright.

"It's okay, mate, I've got ya," Spike said. Together, he and Marcus followed the two sisters back to Giles and Willow. With a tremendous crack, the old high school gave one last crash as the skies opened. The light rain became a thundering downpour, bathing the streets of Sunnydale.

  


**end of Part V - Distillation  
**_[~ continue to next chapter ~][1]_

   [1]: 30-12.htm



	31. Epilogue

Dark Alchemy : Epilogue : Fusion

  
**

epilogue - fusion

**

Solitude1056 

Giles waited while Marcus finished making the phone calls. The young man leaned in the doorway to the kitchen, fiddling with a pen while he waited for details on his return flight. At various intervals, he'd remove the calling card from between his lips to respond in a liquid Italian phrase, and then jot something down. Giles sipped his tea, waiting for the news. 

"Riservarme uno all'inizio di volo a Madrid," Marcus snapped suddenly. Giles wasn't positive of the meaning but it was obvious the young man was getting frustrated. It became even clearer when Marcus raised his voice in a flurry of Italian. He was silent for a moment, listening, before turning around to see Giles watching him. Marcus started to shrug, then winced. 

"Ciò è bello. Farlo, e lo chiamerò da lí," the young man said, and hung up the phone. Sighing, he joined Giles at the table. 

"All set, then," Giles asked as he poured a cup of tea for Marcus. 

"Yes, sir." Marcus accepted the cup and handed the pen to Giles. "You may want to write this down, yourself. I have trouble reading my own handwriting, so I doubt copying this for you would do you much good." 

Giles chuckled and took one of the journal printouts, flipping it over to write down the information. Marcus read out the flight information and times, and Giles was startled to hear the young man's itinerary was not what he'd expected. 

"You're flying into Spain? In four days?" Giles raised his eyebrows at the young man. "Not Heathrow?" 

"I have to stop by the vineyards and oversee the racking, but I figured I'd visit a college friend on my way home," Marcus said amiably. "I'll be at Heathrow the following week." 

"I thought you live in Venice," Giles replied. 

"I do," the young man said, his gray eyes squinting as he grinned at Giles. After a second, Giles began to chuckle in response. The two finished their tea in companionable silence, enjoying the moment. 

Dawn had stayed home from school at Buffy's suggestion. They had been up all night as Dawn cried, but it wasn't until the small hours that Dawn could voice her grieving. Despite the early morning light filling their mother's bedroom, Buffy let her sister talk. When exhaustion finally set in, and Dawn slept, Buffy was awake for a bit longer, remembering her own heartaches and mourning Simon, and her sister's loss, in silence. 

They'd slept late, and after so much talking, the morning was hushed. There were errands Buffy had planned to run while Dawn was in school, but they could wait. She didn't want Dawn being by herself in the house, but she respected Dawn's request at breakfast for some time alone. 

Instead, Buffy made herself busy around the house with little chores she'd been putting off, such as cleaning out the fridge. Dawn was in the living room, reading. Buffy could hear a muffled sob every now and then, and her heart broke all over again. Sighing, she dug out two generic sodas from the farthest reaches of the fridge, and gave them a confused look. __

_Since when did anyone around here drink these,_ she wondered. 

Buffy had just finished when she heard a soft knock at the front door. She grabbed a towel and went to get the door. Her sister had gotten there before her, and was holding the door open to Marcus. Dawn's posture was stiff, and Buffy wondered what he'd said. 

"Marcus," Buffy called as she finished wiping her hands. "Please, uh, come in." 

Marcus didn't move. He was holding something in a gesture of offering. Curious, Buffy set the towel on the foyer table and came to stand next to her sister. Dawn still hadn't moved, her eyes transfixed on the object. Buffy realized it was Simon's rugby shirt. It was filthy, but folded neatly. 

"I..." Marcus bit his lip, his deep voice cracking. His gray eyes were downcast, and his expression was regretful. "I managed to get this, last night. I'm sorry if I shouldn't..." He glanced at Buffy, who shook her head almost imperceptibly. He looked back at Dawn, who seemed to be slowly waking up. 

"It's, it's okay," Dawn whispered, her hand slowly reaching out to touch the shirt. "There wasn't anything left of him, he just... turned to dust." Marcus regarded the young girl sadly. He held very still as she stroked the shirt, the tears brimming in her eyes. 

"I didn't wash it," he replied, his voice under better control. "It's... the ritual, you see, and the shirt..." He glanced at Buffy, his eyes wide with his own pain. She realized what he meant and glanced down at the shirt in horror. He continued, his voice a low rumble to mask his own heartbreak. "I thought perhaps you might... want to give it a burial, in lieu of having..." 

Dawn shook her head violently. "No," she said firmly. "This is a part of him, and I want to keep it with me." 

"I'm doing laundry next," Buffy interjected. "I can-" 

"No." Dawn cut her off as she carefully took the shirt from Marcus. "I'll do it. I want to do it." She turned to go, but Marcus' voice stopped her. 

"Please," he said quietly, a strange note in his voice. "I'm sorry. I truly am." 

Dawn stopped, her back to him. For a second, she hung there, before turning slowly around, lifting her chin as she gave him a small smile. "I understand." Clutching the shirt to her, she turned and fled up the stairs to her room. Marcus looked at Buffy, worried. 

"If I'd known, I would've taken the time to wash out the blood," he whispered, and Buffy shook her head. 

"We're used to that, in this house," she said. "We know what it means." Marcus was perplexed, but let the comment pass. 

"Will she be okay," he asked, his eyes still on the stairs.

Buffy glanced over her shoulder at the stairs, and then back at him. Her expression was sad. "Not right away," she said, and sighed. "But eventually, yeah." There was an awkward silence, and Buffy seemed to remember herself. "Please, come in. I'm sorry, leaving you standing there." 

Marcus smiled, a quick flash, and shook his head. "I don't have long. I'm on my way out of town now," he told her. Buffy nodded, then grabbed her coat and stepped out on the porch to join him, closing the door behind her. 

"So everything is good to go," she said. He nodded. She hesitated, and decided to ask anyway. "The Watcher's Council, too?" 

"Yeah." He nodded, shrugging one shoulder slowly. She realized he was still favoring his shoulders, but the gash across his face wasn't nearly as angry as she'd expected it to be. It looked like it'd heal cleanly. "They're a little upset I won't be there tomorrow, but they'll deal." 

"That's the right attitude," Buffy replied, making a face. "Don't let them think they rule you." 

He grinned. "I do have to be somewhat courteous to them," he reminded her. Buffy chuckled, rolling her eyes as if she were innocent. He continued, "but I suppose they'll think I'm a lost cause now that I've spent time with you. Bad example, and all that." 

Buffy squinted up at him, and blushed a little as she saw his large gray eyes looking at her with a mischievous expression. He pursed his lips, about to say something else, and tucked his hands in his jeans pockets, shivering slightly from the November chill. At first, she couldn't figure out what was different, and then she realized he wasn't wearing his jacket. He was wearing one of Giles' old shirts, but no jacket. 

_He had it with him, afterwards, _she thought, curious as to why he'd choose to be cold. Suddenly, it dawned on her. _That wasn't his jacket last night,_ she realized. _He took precious seconds to get Simon's shirt._ _A step away from his own death, and he was thinking of my sister._

She bit her lip, unable to express her gratitude, or even explain why her eyes were brimming with tears. Marcus watched, but remained silent. Buffy started to speak, then stopped, uncertain of how to express herself. An uncomfortable silence began to grow, until she glanced past Marcus and saw a sleek gray sedan parked at the curb. Buffy gasped. 

"That's a taxi?" 

Marcus looked over, startled, then grinned at her. "No, silly, I rented a car." 

"I thought you could only get ugly hatchbacks in this town," she said, impressed. Marcus laughed, a warm sound, and she grinned back at him. 

"No," he said, still chuckling. "I've done enough walking in this town. I decided I deserve some finer transportation before I get back on another plane." 

"It's not that far to the local airport," she teased. "You could've just walked." 

"My flight's out of Los Angeles," he said. A flash of embarrassment crossed his face as he looked away, but just as quickly he was looking at her again, an amused expression on his exhausted features. "In three days." 

"It doesn't take three days to drive to Los Angeles," she said, and then it dawned on her. "You're going..." 

He nodded, and smiled shyly. "I promised her I would." 

He was feigning nonchalance, but Buffy could tell by the way he hunched his shoulders that he was waiting nervously for her response. Buffy bit her lip, uncertain about what reaction she should be feeling. Finally, she leaned forward on her tiptoes and gently kissed him on the cheek. She held it for a heartbeat before pulling away. 

"What was that for," he whispered, surprised. 

"Love," she said, and smiled. 

_ [~ la fine ~][1] _

  


   [1]: credits-12.htm



End file.
